^(vvt^^^it 


€l.CE.SOM€R\^ILLe 
AND  M/IRTI/S  I^SS, 


o 


JOHNA.SEAVERNS 


/-=> 


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MOUNT   MUSIC 


By  the  same  Authors 

SOME  EXPERIENCES  OF  AN 

IRISH    R.M. 

FURTHER  EXPERIENCES  OF  AN 

IRISH  R.M. 

IN  MR.   KNOX'S  COUNTRY 

ALL  ON  THE  IRISH  SHORE 

SOME  IRISH  YESTERDAYS 

AN  IRISH  COUSIN 

THE  REAL  CHARLOTTE 

THE   SILVER  FOX 

IRISH   MEMORIES 


LONGMANS,     GREEN     AND     CO 

LONDON,    NEW    YORK,    BOMBAY, 
CALCUTTA    AND    MADRAS. 


MOUNT    MUSIC 


By 

E.    CE.    SOMERVILLE 

AND 

MARTIN    ROSS 

AUTHORS    OF 

"  THE    REAL    CHARLOTTE,"      "  SOME    EXPERIENCES 

OF    AN    IRISH  R.M.,"     "ALL    ON  THE  IRISH    SHORE.." 

ETC.,    ETC. 


LONGMANS,      GREEN      AND      CO. 

39     PATERNOSTER    ROW,     LONDON 

FOURTH    AVENUE   AND   30TH    STREET,    NEW  YORK, 

BOMBAY,    CALCUTTA    AND    MADRAS 

I919 


<^s<s^ 


^>^ 


COPYRIGHT,    I9I9>    B"^ 
LONGMANS,    GREEN   AND  CO. 


PREFACE 

This  book  zvas  planned  some  years  ago  by  Martin 
Ross  and  myself.  A  fezv  portions  of  it  zvere 
written,  and  it  was  then  put  aside  for  other  work. 

Without  her  help  and  inspiration,  it  would  not 
have  been  begun,  and  could  not  have  been  completed. 
I  feel,  therefore,  that  to  join  her  name  with  mine 
on  the  title-page  is  my  duty,  as  well  as  my  pleasure. 

E.  (E.  SOMERVILLE. 


June  iiih,  1919. 


MOUNT   MUSIC 


CHAPTER   I 

*'  Christian,  dost  thou  see  them  ?  "  sang  an  elder  brother, 
small  enough  to  be  brutal,  large  enough  to  hurt,  while  he 
twisted  Christian's  arm  as  though  it  were  indeed  the  rope 
that  it  so  much  resembled. 

**  I  won't  say  I  saw  them,  because  I  didn't  !  "  replied 
Christian,  who  had  ceased  to  struggle,  but  was  as  far  as  ever 
from  submission  ;  "  but  if  I  had,  you  might  twist  my  arm  till 
it  was  like  an  old  pig's  tail  and  I  wouldn't  give  in  !  " 

Possibly  John  reahsed  the  truth  of  this  defiance.  He 
administered  a  final  thump  on  what  he  believed  to  be 
Christian's  biceps,  and  released  her. 

"  Pretty  rotten  to  spoil  the  game,  and  then  tell  lies,"  he  said, 
with  severity. 

'*  I  don't  tell  lies,"  said  Christian,  flitting  like  a  gnat  to 
the  open  window  of  the  schoolroom.  *'  You  sang  the  wrong 
verse  !     It  ought  to  have  been  '  hear  them,'  and  I  do  !  " 

Having  thus  secured  the  last  word,  Miss  Christian  Talbot- 
Lowry,  aged  nine  in  years,  and  ninety  in  spirit,  sprang  upon 
the  window-sill,  leapt  Hghtly  into  a  flower-bed,  and  betook 
herself  to  the  resort  most  favoured  by  her,  the  kennels  of 
her  father's  hounds. 

What  person  is  there  who,  having  attained  to  such  maturity 
as  is  required  for  legible  record,  shall  presume  to  reconstruct, 
either  from  memory  or  from  observation,  the  mind  of  a  child  ? 
Certain  mental   attitudes  may  be  recalled,   certain  actions 

7 


8  MOUNT   MUSIC 

predicated  in  certain  circumstances,  but  the  stream  of  the 
mind,  with  its  wayward  currents,  its  secret  eddies,  flows 
underground,  and  its  course  can  only  be  guessed  at  by  tokens 
of  speech  and  of  action,  that  are  Hke  the  rushes,  and  the  yellow 
king-cups,  and  the  emerald  of  the  grass,  that  show  where 
hidden  waters  run.  Nothing  more  presumptuous  than  the 
gathering  of  a  few  of  these  tokens  will  here  be  attempted, 
and  of  these,  only  such  as  may  help  to  explain  the  time  when 
these  children,  emerging  from  childhood,  began  to  play 
their  parts  in  the  scene  destined  to  be  theirs. 

This  history  opens  at  a  moment  for  Christian  and  her 
brethren  when,  possibly  for  the  last  time  in  their  several 
careers,  they  asked  nothing  more  of  life.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  the  summer  holidays  ;  the  sky  was  unclouded 
by  a  governess,  the  sunny  air  untainted  by  the  whiff  of  a 
thought  of  a  return  to  school.  Anything  might  happen 
in  seven  weeks.  The  end  of  the  world,  for  instance,  might 
mercifully  intervene,  and,  as  this  was  Ireland,  there  was 
always  a  hope  of  a  "  rising,"  in  which  case  it  would  be  the 
boys'  pleasing  duty  to  stay  at  home  and  fight. 

**'  Well,  and  Judith  and  I  would  fight,  too,"  Christian  would 
say,  thinking  darkly  of  the  Indian  knife  that  she  had  stolen 
from  the  smoking-room,  for  use  in  emergencies.  She  varied 
in  her  arrangements  as  to  the  emergency.  Sometimes  the 
foe  was  to  be  the  Land  Leaguers,  who  were  much  in  the  fore- 
ground at  this  time  ;  sometimes  she  decided  upon  the  English 
oppressors  of  a  down- trodden  Ireland,  to  whose  slaughter, 
on  the  whole,  her  fancy  most  inclined.  But  whatever 
the  occasion,  she  was  quite  determined  she  was  not  going 
to  be  outdone  by  the  boys. 

At  nine  years  old.  Christian  was  a  little  rag  of  a  girl ;  a 
rag,  but  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  rag  that  is  nailed  to 
the  mast,  and  flaunts,  unconquered,  until  it  is  shot  away. 
She  had  a  small  head,  round  and  brown  as  a  hazel-nut,  and 
a  thick  mop  of  fine,  bright  hair,  rebellious  like  herself,  of  the 
sort  that  goes  with  an  ardent  personality,  waved  and  curled 
over  her  little  poll,  and  generally  ended  the  day  in  a  tangle 
only  less  intricate  than  can  be  achieved  by  a  skein  of  silk. 
Of  her  small  oval  face,  people  were  accustomed  to  say  it  was 
all  eyes,  an  unoriginal  summarising,  but  one  that  forced 
itself  inevitably  upon  those  who  met  Christian's  eyes,  clear 


MOUNT    MUSIC  9 

and  shining,  of  the  pale  brown  that  the  sun  knows  how  to 
waken  in  a  shallow  pool  in  a  hill-stream,  set  in  a  dark  fringe 
of  lashes  that  were  like  the  rushes  round  the  pool.  Before 
she  could  speak,  it  was  told  of  her  eyes  that  they  would  quietly 
follow  some  visitor,  invisible  to  others,  but  obvious  to  her. 
Occasionally,  after  the  mysterious  power  of  speech — that  is 
almost  as  mysterious  as  the  power  of  reading — had  come  to 
her,  she  had  scared  the  nursery  by  broken  conversation 
with  viewless  confederates,  defined  by  the  nursery-maid  as 
"  quare  turns  that'd  take  l.er,  the  Lord  save  us  !  "  and  by  her 
mother,  as  "  something  that  she  will  outgrow,  and  the  less 
said  about  it  the  better,   darlings.     Remember,  she  is  the 

youngest,   and  you  must  all   be  very  wise   and  kind " 

(a  formula  that  took  no  heed  of  punctuation,  and  was 
practically  invariable). 

But  as  Christian  grew  older  the  confederates  withdrew, 
either  that,  or  the  protecting  shell  of  reserve  that  guards  the 
growth  of  individuality,  interposed,  and  her  dealings  with 
things  unseen  ceased  to  attract  the  attention  of  her  elders. 
It  was  John,  her  senior  by  two  years,  who  preserved  an 
interest,  of  an  inquisitorial  sort,  in  what  he  had  decided 
to  call  the  Troops  of  Midian.  There  was  a  sacerdotal  turn 
about  John.  He  had  early  decided  upon  the  Church  as  his 
vocation,  and  only  hesitated  between  the  roles  of  Primate  of 
Ireland  and  Pope  of  Rome.  He  had  something  of  the  poet 
and  enthusiast  about  him,  and  something  also  of  the  bully, 
and  it  was  quite  possible  that  he  might  do  creditably  in  either 
position,  but  at  this  stage  of  his  development  his  ecclesiastical 
proclivities  chiefly  displayed  themselves  in  a  dramatic  study, 
founded  upon  that  well-known  Lenten  hymn  that  puts  a 
succession  of  searching  enquiries,  of  a  personal  character, 
to  a  typical  Christian.  A  missionary  lecture  on  West  Africa 
had  supplied  some  useful  hints  as  to  the  treatment  of  witches, 
and  Christian's  name,  and  the  occult  powers  with  which 
she  was  credited,  had  indicated  her  as  heroine  of  the  piece. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  the  game  had  begun  prosper- 
ously, with  Christian  as  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  John  as  a 
blend  of  the  Prophet  Samuel  and  the  Head  Inquisitor  of 
Spain.  A  smouldering  saucer  of  sulphur,  purloined  by  the 
witch  herself  from  the  kennels,  medicine-cupboard,  gave  a 
stimulating  reality  to  the  scene,  even  though  it  had  driven 


10  MOUNT   MUSIC 

the  fox  terriers,  who  habitually  acted  as  the  Witch's  cats, 
to  abandon  their  parts,  and  to  hurry,  sneezing  and  coughing 
indignantly,  to  the  kitchen.  The  twins,  Jimmy  and  Georgy, 
however,  obligingly  took  their  parts,  and  all  was  going 
according  to  ritual,  when  one  of  the  sudden  and  annoying 
attacks  of  rebellion  to  which  she  was  subject,  came  upon  the 
Witch  of  Endor.  The  orthodox  conclusion  involved  a 
penitential  march  through  the  kitchen  regions,  the  Witch 
swathed  in  a  sheet,  and  carrying  lighted  candles,  while  she 
was  ceremonially  flagellated  by  the  Prophet  with  one  of  his 
father's  hunting  crops.  This  crowning  moment  was 
approaching,  Christian  had  but  to  reply  suitably  to  the 
intimidating  riddles  of  the  hymn,  and  the  final  act  would  open 
in  all  its  solemnity.  But,  as  has  been  said,  the  spirit  of  revolt 
whispered  to  her,  and  ingeniously  persuaded  her  that  the 
required  recantation  committed  her  to  a  falsehood. 

As  she  told  John,  when  the  formal  inquisition  had  passed 
through  acrid  dispute  to  torture,  she  didn't  tell  lies. 


CHAPTER    II 

In  the  days  when  Christian  Talbot-Lowry  was  a  Httle  girl, 
that  is  to  say  between  the  eighties  and  nineties  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  the  class  known  as  Landed  Gentry  was  still 
pre-eminent  in  Ireland.  Tenants  and  tradesmen  bowed 
down  before  them,  with  love  sometimes,  sometimes  with 
hatred,  never  with  indifference.  The  newspapers  of  their 
districts  recorded  their  enterprises  in  marriage,  in  birth, 
in  death,  copiously,  and  with  a  servile  rapture  of  detail  that, 
though  it  is  not  yet  entirely  withheld  from  their  survivors, 
is  now  bestowed  with  an  equal  unction  on  those  who,  in  many 
instances,  have  taken  their  places,  geographically,  if  not  their 
place,  socially,  in  Irish  every-day  existence.  There  is  little 
doubt  but  that  after  the  monsters  of  the  Primal  Periods 
had  been  practically  extinguished,  a  stray  reptile,  here  and 
there,  escaped  the  general  doom,  and,  as  Mr.  Yeats  says  of 
his  lug- worm,  may  have  sung  with  *'  its  grey  and  muddy 
mouth  "  of  how  "  somewhere  to  North  or  West  or  South, 
there  dwelt  a  gay,  exulting,  gentle  race  "  of  Plesiosauridas, 
or  Pterodactyli.  Even  thus  may  this  record  be  regarded  ; 
as  partial,  perhaps,  but  as  founded  on  the  facts  of  a  not  wholly 
to  be  condemned  past. 

Christian's  father,  Richard  Talbot-Lowry,  was  a  good- 
looking,  long-legged,  long-moustached  Major,  who,  conform- 
ing beautifully  to  type,  was  a  soldier,  sportsman,  and  loyalist, 
as  had  been  his  ancestors  before  him.  He  had  fought  in  the 
Mutiny  as  a  lad  of  nineteen,  and  had  been  wounded  in  the 
thigh  in  a  cavalry  charge  in  a  subsequent  fight  on  the  Afghan 
Frontier.  Dick,  like  Horatius,  "  halted  upon  one  knee " 
for  the  rest  of  his  life,  but  since  the  injury  gave  him  no  trouble 

II 


12  MOUNT   MUSIC 

in  the  saddle,  and  did  not  affect  the  sit  of  his  trousers,  he  did 
not  resent  it,  and  possibly  enjoyed  its  occasional  exposition 
to  an  enquirer.  When  his  father  died,  he  left  the  Army, 
and,  still  true  to  the  family  traditions,  proceeded  to  "  settle 
down  "  at  Mount  Music,  and  to  take  into  his  own  hands  the 
management  of  the  property. 

Of  the  Talbot-Lowrys  it  may  be  truly  said  that  the  lot 
had  fallen  to  them  in  a  fair  ground.  Their  ancestor,  the 
Gentleman  Adventurer  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  had  had 
the  eye  for  the  country  that,  in  a  slightly  different  sense, 
had  descended  to  his  present  representative.  Mount  Music 
House  stood  about  midway  of  a  long  valley,  on  a  level  plateau 
of  the  hill  from  which  it  took  its  name,  Cnocan  an  Ceoil 
Sidhe,  which  means  the  Hill  of  Fairy  Music,  and  may, 
approximately,  be  pronounced  "  Knockawn  an  K'yole  Shee." 
The  hill  melted  downwards — no  other  word  can  express  the 
velvet  softness  of  those  mild,  grassy  slopes — to  the  shore  of 
the  River  Broadwater,  a  slow  and  lordly  stream,  that  moved 
mightily  down  the  wide  valley,  became  merged  for  a  space  in 
Lough  Kieraun,  and  thence  flowed  onwards,  broad  and  brim- 
ming, bearded  with  rushes,  passing  like  a  king,  cloaked  in 
the  splendours  of  the  sunset,  to  its  suicide  in  the  far-away 
Atlantic.  The  demesne  of  Mount  Music  lay  along  its  banks  ; 
in  woods  often,  more  often  in  pastures  ;  with  boggy  places 
ringed  with  willows,  lovely,  in  their  seasons,  with  yellow  flags, 
and  meadowsweet,  kingcups,  ragwort  and  loosestrife.  Its 
western  boundary  was  the  Ownashee,  a  mountain  stream, 
a  tributary  of  the  great  river,  that  came  storming  down  from 
the  hills,  and,  in  times  of  flood,  snatching,  like  a  border- 
reiver,  at  sheep,  and  pigs,  and  fowl,  tossing  its  spoils  in  a 
tumble  of  racing  waves  into  the  wide  waters  of  its  chieftain. 

Mount  Music  House  was  large,  intensely  solid,  practical, 
sensible,  of  that  special  type  of  old  Irish  countr}^-house  that 
is  entirely  remote  from  the  character  of  the  men  that  origin- 
ated it,  and  can  only  be  explained  as  the  expiring  cry  of  the 
English  blood.  How  many  Anglo-Irish  great-great-grand- 
fathers have  not  raised  these  monuments  to  their  English 
forbears,  and  then,  recognising  their  obligations  to  their 
Irish  mothers'  ancestry,  have  filled  them,  gloriously,  with 
horses  and  hounds,  and  butts  of  claret,  and  hungry  poor 
relations  unto  the  fourth  and  fifth  generation  }     That  they 


MOUNT    MUSIC  13 

were  a  puissant  breed,  the  history  of  the  Empire,  in  which 
they  have  so  staunchly  borne  their  parts,  can  tell  ;  their  own 
point  of  view  is  fairly  accurately  summed  up  in  Curran's 
verse  : — 

"  If  sadly  thinking,  with  spirits  sinking, 

Could  more  than  drinking  my  cares  compose, 
A  cure  for  sorrow  from  sighs  I'd  borrow. 

And  hope  to-morrow  would  end  my  woes. 
But  as  in  waihng  there's  nought  availing. 

And  Death  unfaiHng  will  strike  the  blow, 
Then  for  that  reason,  and  for  a  season, 

Let  us  be  merry  before  we  go." 

For  Dick  Talbot-Lowry,  however,  and  many  another  like 
him,  the  merriment  of  his  great-grandfather  was  indifferent 
compensation  for  the  fact  that  his  grandfather's  and  his  father's 
consequent  borrowings  were  by  no  means  limited  to  cures  for 
sorrow.  Mortgages,  charges,  younger  children  (superfluous 
and  abhorrent  to  the  Heaven-selected  Head  of  a  Family) — 
all  these  had  driven  wedges  deep  into  the  Mount  Music 
estate.  But,  fortunately,  a  good-looking,  long-legged,  ex- 
Hussar  need  not  rely  exclusively  on  his  patrimony,  while 
matrimony  is  still  within  the  sphere  of  practical  politics. 
When,  at  close  on  forty-one  years  of  age  (and  looking 
no  more  than  thirty),  Dick  left  the  Army,  his  next  step  was  to 
make  what  was  universally  conceded  to  be  "a  very  nice 
marriage,"  and  on  the  whole,  regarding  it  from  the  impartial 
standpoint  of  Posterity,  the  universe  may  be  said  to  have  been 
justified  in  its  opinion. 

Lady  Isabel  Christian  was  the  daughter  of  an  English 
Earl,  and  she  brought  with  h(r  to  Mount  Music  twenty 
thousand  golden  sovereigns,  which  are  very  nice  things,  and 
Lady  Isabel  herself  was  indisputably  a  nice  thing  too. 
She  was  tall  and  fair,  and  quite  pretty  enough  (as  Dick's 
female  relatives  said,  non-committally).  She  was  sufficiently 
musical  to  play  the  organ  in  church  (which  is  also  a  statement 
pro  ided  with  an  ample  margin)  ;  she  was  a  docile  and  devoted 
wife,  a  futile  and  extravagant  house-keeper,  kindly  and  un- 
punctual,  prolific  without  re  entment  ;  she  regarded  with 
mild  surprise  the  large  and  strenuous  family  that  rushed  past 


14  MOUNT   MUSIC 

her,  as  a  mountain  torrent  might  rush  past  an  untidy  flower 
garden,  and,  after  nearly  fourteen  years  of  maternal  experience, 
she  had  abandoned  the  search  for  a  point  of  contact  with  their 
riotous  souls,  and  contented  herself  with  an  indiscriminate 
affection  for  their  very  creditable  bodies.  Lady  Isabel  had 
— if  the  saying  may  be  reversed — "  les  qualites  de  ses  defauts^* 
and  these  latter  could  have  no  environment  less  critical  and 
more  congenial  than  that  in  which  it  had  pleased  her  mother 
to  place  her.  It  was  right  and  fitting  that  the  wife  of  the 
reigning  Talbot-Lowry  of  Mount  Music,  should  inevitably 
lead  the  way  at  local  dinner-parties  ;  should,  with  ladylike 
inaudibleness,  declare  that  "  this  Bazaar "  or  "  Village 
Hall "  was  open.  It  was  no  more  than  the  duty  of  Major 
Talbot-Lowry  (D.L.,  and  J.P.)  to  humanity,  that  his  race 
should  multiply  and  replenish  the  earth,  and  Lady  Isabel 
had  unrepiningly  obliged  humanity  to  the  extent  of  four 
sons  and  two  daughters.  Major  Dick's  interest  in  the 
multiplication  was,  perhaps,  more  abstract  than  hers. 

*'  Yes,"  he  would  say,  genially,  to  an  enquiring  farmer, 
*'  I  have  four  ploughmen  and  two  dairymaids  !  " 

Or,  to  a  friend  of  soldiering  days  :  "  Four  blackguard 
boys  and  only  a  brace  of  the  Plentiful  Sex  !  " 

A  disproportion  for  which,  by  some  singular  action  of  the 
mind,  he  took  to  himself  considerable  credit. 

Miss  Frederica  Coppinger  (who  will  presently  be  intro- 
duced) was  accustomed  to  scandalise  Lady  Isabel  by  the 
assertion  that  paternal  affection  no  more  existed  in  men 
than  in  tom-cats.  An  over-statement,  no  doubt,  but  one 
that  was  quite  free  from  malice  or  disapproval.  Undoubtedly, 
a  father  should  learn  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth,  and  Dick 
was  old,  as  fathers  go.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  when  the 
Four  Blackguards  began  to  clamour  for  mounts  with  the 
hounds,  and  the  representatives  of  the  Plentiful  Sex  outgrew 
the  donkey.  Major  Talbot-Lowry  had  moments  of  resent- 
ment against  his  offspring,  during  which  his  wife,  like  a  wise 
doe-rabbit,  found  it  safest  to  sweep  her  children  out  of  sight, 
and  to  sit  at  the  mouth  of  the  burrow,  having  armed  herself 
with  an  appealing  headache  and  a  better  dinner  than  usual. 
The  children  liked  him  ;  not  very  much,  but  sufficient  for 
general  decency  and  the  Fifth  Commandment.  They  loved 
their  mother,  but  despised  her,  faintly  ;  (again,  not  too  much 


MOUNT   MUSIC  15 

for  compliance  with  the  Commandment  aforesaid).  Finally, 
it  may  be  said  that  Major  Dick  and  Lady  Isabel  were  sincerely 
attached  to  one  another,  and  that  she  took  his  part,  quite 
frequently,  against  the  children. 

If,  accepting  the  tom-cat  standard  of  paternity,  Dick 
Talbot-Lowry  had  a  preference  for  one  kitten  more  than 
another,  that  kitten  was,  indisputably,  Christian. 

"  The  little  devil  knows  the  hounds  better  than  I  do  !  " 
he  would  say  to  a  brother  M.F.H.  at  the  Puppy  Show.  *'  Her 
mother  can't  keep  her  out  of  the  kennels.  And  the  hounds 
are  mad  about  her.  I  believe  she  could  take  'em  walking- 
out  single-handed  !  " 

To  which  the  brother  M.F.H.  would  probably  respond 
with  perfidious  warmth:  *' By  Jove!"  while,  addressing 
that  inner  confidant,  who  always  receives  the  raciest  share  of 
any  conversation,  he  would  say  that  he'd  be  jiggered  before 
he'd  let  any  of  his  children  mess  the  hounds  about  with 
petting  and  nonsense. 

In  justice  to  Lady  Isabel,  it  should  be  said  that  she  shared 
the  visiting  M.F.H's  view  of  the  position,  though  regarding 
it  from  a  different  angle. 

"  Christian,  my  dearest  child,"  she  said,  on  the  day  follow- 
ing the  Puppy  Show  that  had  coincided  with  Christian's 
eighth  birthday,  when,  after  a  long  search,  she  had  discovered 
her  youngest  daughter,  seated,  tailor-wise,  in  one  of  the 
kennels,  the  centre  of  a  mat  of  hounds.  "  This  is  not  a  fit 
place  for  you  !  You  don't  know  what  you  may  not  bring  back 
with  you " 

"  If  you  mean  fleas.  Mother,"  replied  Christian,  firmly, 
"  the  hounds  have  none,  except  what  /  bring  them  from 
Yummie."  (Yummie  was  Lady  Isabel's  dog,  a  sickly  and 
much  despised  spaniel).  *'  The  Hounds  !  "  Christian 
laughed  a  little  ;  the  laugh  that  is  the  flower  of  the  root  of 
scorn.  Then  her  eyes  softened  and  glowed.  "  Darlings  !  " 
she  murmured,  kissing  wildly  the  tan  head  of  the  puppy 
who,  but  the  day  before,  had  been  reft  from  her  charge. 


CHAPTER    III 

There  are  certain  persons  who  are  bom  heralds  and 
genealogists  ;  there  are  many  more  to  whom  these  useful 
gifts  have  been  denied.  With  apologies  to  both  classes,  to 
the  one  for  sins  of  omission,  to  the  other  in  the  reverse  sense, 
I  find  that  an  excerpt  from  the  Talbot-Lowry  pedigree  must 
be  inflicted  upon  them. 

With  all  brevity,  let  it  be  stated  that  Dick  Talbot-Lowry 
possessed  a  father,  General  John  Richard,  and  General  John 
Richard  had  an  only  sister,  Caroline,  Caroline,  fair  and  hand- 
some, like  all  her  family,  was  "  married  off,"  as  was  the  custom 
of  her  period,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  to  elderly  Anthony 
Coppinger,  chiefly  for  the  reason  that  he  was  the  owner  of 
Coppinger's  Court,  with  a  ^  ery  comfortable  rent-roll,  and  a 
large  demesne,  that  marched,  as  to  its  eastern  boundaries, 
with  that  of  Mount  Music,  and  was,  as  it  happened,  divided 
from  it  by  no  more  than  the  Ownashee,  that  mountain  river 
of  which  mention  has  been  made.  It  was,  therefore,  exceed- 
ingly advisable  that  the  existing  friendly  relations  should  be 
cemented,  as  far  as  was  practicable,  and  the  fair  and  handsome 
Caroline  was  an  obvious  and  suitable  adhesive.  To  Anthony 
and  Caroline,  two  children  were  born  ;  Frederic  t,  of  whom 
more  hereafter,  and  Thomas.  By  those  who  lay  claim  to 
genealogic  skill,  it  will  now  be  apparent  that  these  were  the 
first  cousins  of  Dick  Talbot-Lowry.  Thomas  went  into  the 
Indian  Army,  and  in  India  met  and  married  a  very  charming 
young  lady,  Theresa  Quinton,  a  member  of  an  ancient 
Catholic  family  in  the  North  of  England,  and  an  ardent 
daughter  of  her  Church.  In  India,  a  son  was  born  to  them, 
and  Colonel  Tom,  who  adored  his  wife,  remarking  that  these 
things  were  out  oi  his  line,  made  no  objection  to  her  bringing 

i6 


MOUNT    MUSIC  17 

up  the  son,  St.  Lawrence  Anthony,  in  her  own  religion,  and 
hoped  that  the  matter  would  end  there.  Mrs.  Coppinger, 
however,  remembering  St.  Paul's  injunctions  to  believing 
wives  and  unbelieving  husbands,  neither  stopped  nor  stayed 
her  prayers  and  exhortations,  until,  just  before  the  birth  of 
a  second  child,  she  had  succeeded  in  inducing  Tom  Cop- 
pinger— (just  *'  to  please  her,  and  for  the  sake  of  a  quiet 
life,"  as  he  wrote,  apologetically,  to  his  relations  and  friends, 
far  away  in  Ireland) — to  join  her  Communion.  She  then 
died,  and  her  baby  followed  her.  Colonel  Tom,  a  very  sad 
and  lonely  man,  came  to  England  and  visited  St.  Lawrence 
Anthony  at  the  school  selected  for  him  by  his  mother  ;  then 
he  returned  to  his  regiment  in  India,  and  was  killed,  within 
a  year  of  his  wife's  death,  in  a  Frontier  expedition.  He  left 
Larry  in  the  joint  guardianship  of  his  sister,  Frederica,  and 
his  first  cousin,  Dick  Talbot-Lowry,  with  the  request  that 
the  former  would  live  with  the  boy  at  Coppinger's  Court, 
and  that  the  latter  would  look  after  the  property  until  the  boy 
came  of  age  and  could  do  so  himself ;  he  also  mentioned 
that  he  wished  his  son's  education  to  continue  on  the  lines 
laid  down  by  his  '*  beloved  wife,  Theresa." 

It  must,  with  regret,  be  stated,  that  the  relatives  and  friends 
in  far-away  Ireland,  instead  of  admiring  "  poor  Tom's  " 
fidelity  to  his  wife's  wishes,  murmured  together  that  it  was 
very  unfortunate  that  **  poor  Theresa  "  had  not  died  when 
Larry  was  born,  as,  in  that  case,  this  "  disastrous  change  of 
religion  "  would  not  have  taken  place.  Taking  into  con- 
sideration the  fact  that  Larry  was  to  live  among  his  Irish 
cousins,  it  is  possible  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  expediency, 
the  relations  and  friends  were  in  some  degree  justified. 

Ireland,  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  observe,  has  long  since 
decided  to  call  herself  The  Island  of  Saints,  an  assertion 
akin  to  the  national  challenge  of  trailing  the  coat-tails,  and 
believers  in  hereditary  might,  perhaps,  be  justified  in  assuming 
a  strictly  celibate  sainthood.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Irish  people 
have  ever  been  prone  to  extremes,  and,  in  spite  of  the  proverb, 
there  are  some  extremes  that  never  touch,  and  chief  among 
them  are  those  that  concern  religion.  Religion,  or  rather, 
difference  of  religion,  is  a  factor  in  every-day  Irish  life  of 
infinitely  more  potency  than  it  is,  perhaps,  in  any  other 
Christian  countr}\  The  profundity  of  disagreement  is  such 


i8  MOUNT   MUSIC 

that  in  most  books  treating  of  Ireland,  that  are  not  deliberately 
sectarian,  a  system  of  water-tight  compartments  in  such  matters 
is  carefully  established.  It  is,  no  doubt,  possible  to  write 
of  human  beings  who  live  in  Ireland,  without  mentioning 
their  religious  views,  but  to  do  so  means  a  drastic  censoring 
of  an  integral  feature  of  nearly  all  mundane  affairs.  This  it 
is  to  live  in  the  Island  of  Saints. 

In  this  humble  account  of  the  late  Plesiosauridse  and  their 
contemporaries,  it  is  improbable  that  any  saint  of  any  sect 
will  be  introduced  ;  one  assurance,  at  least,  may  be  offered 
without  reservation.  Those  differing  Paths,  that  alike  have 
led  many  wayfarers  to  the  rest  that  is  promised  to  the  saints, 
will  be  treated  with  an  equal  reverence  and  respect.  But  no 
rash  undertakings  can  be  given  as  touching  the  wayfarers, 
or  even  their  leaders,  who  may  chance  to  wander  through 
these  pages.  Neither  is  any  personal  responsibility  accepted 
for  the  views  that  any  of  them  may  express.  One  does  not 
blame  the  gramophone  if  the  song  is  flat,  or  if  the  reciter 
drops  his  h's. 

After  this  exhausting  exordium  it  is  tranquillising  to  return 
to  the  comparative  simplicities  of  the  existence  of  the  young 
Talbot-Lowrys.  Those  summer  holidays  of  the  year  1894 
were  made  ever  memorable  for  them  by  the  re-inhabiting  of 
Coppinger's  Court.  Mount  Music  was  a  lonely  place ; 
it  lay  on  the  river,  about  midway  between  the  towns  of 
Cluhir  and  Riverstown,  either  of  which  meant  a  five  or  six 
mile  drive,  and  to  meet  such  friends  and  acquaintances  as 
the  neighbourhood  afforded,  was,  in  winter,  a  matter  confined 
to  the  hunting-field,  and  in  summer  was  restricted,  practically, 
to  the  incidence  of  lawn-tennis  parties.  Possibly  the  children 
of  Mount  Music,  thus  thrown  upon  their  own  resources, 
developed  a  habit  of  amusing  themselves  that  was  as 
advantageous  to  their  caretakers  as  to  their  characters.  It 
certainly  enhanced  very  considerably  their  interest  in  the 
advent  of  Master  St.  Lawrence  Coppinger.  He  became  the 
subject  of  frequent  and  often  heated  discussions,  the  opinion 
most  generally  held,  and  stated  with  a  fine  simplicity,  being 
that  he  would  prove  to  be  *'  a  rotter." 

"  India,"  John  said,  "  had  the  effect  of  making  people 
eifemeral." 

"  Effeminate,  ass  !  "  corrected  Richard,  shortly. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  19 

**  Anyhow,"  said  a  Twin,  charitably,  "  we  can  knock  that 
out  of  him  !  *' 

"Anyhow,"  said  Judith,  next  to  Richard  in  age  and  authority, 
"  if  he  is  a  rotter,  he  can  go  into  the  Brats'  band.  You 
want  someone  decent,"  she  added,  addressing  the  Twin, 
whose  remark  she  felt  to  have  savoured  of  presumption. 

This  family  had,  for  purposes  of  combat  and  of  general 
entertainment,  divided  itself  into  two  factions,  that  fought 
endlessly  among  the  woods  and  shrubberies.  A  method  had 
been  recently  introduced  by  Richard  of  utilising  the  harmless, 
necessary  pocket-handkerchief  as  a  sling  for  the  projection 
of  gravel,  and  its  instant  popularity  had  resulted  in  the 
denuding  of  the  avenues  of  ammunition,  and  in  arousing  a 
great  and  just  fury  in  the  bosom  of  the  laundress. 

"  God  knows  it  isn't  me  has  all  the  hankershiffs  holed 
this  way  !  "  she  pointed  out.  "  Thim  children  is  the  divil 
outlawed.  Thim'd  gallop  the  woods  all  the  night,  like  the  deer!" 

The  assortment  of  the  family  had  been  decided  rather  on 
the  basis  of  dignity,  than  on  that  of  a  desire  to  equalise  the 
sides,  and  thus  it  befel  that  Richard,  Judith,  and  John,  with 
the  style  and  title  of  The  Elder  Statesmen,  were  accustomed 
to  drive  before  them  the  junior  faction  of  The  Brats,  consist- 
ing of  the  Twins,  Christian,  and  the  dogs,  Rinka  and  Tashpy, 
with  a  monotony  of  triumph  that  might  have  been  expected 
to  pall,  had  not  variety  been  imparted  by  the  invention  of 
the  punishments  that  were  inflicted  upon  prisoners.  There 
had  bean  a  long  and  hot  July  day  of  notable  warfare.  The 
Twins,  if  small,  were  swift  and  wily  ;  even  Christian  had 
justified  her  adoption  by  a  stealthy  and  successful  raid  upon 
the  opposition  gravel  heap.  A  long  and  savage  series  of 
engagements  had  ensued,  that  alternated  between  flights, 
and  what  Christian,  blending  recollections  of  nursery  doctor- 
ing with  methods  of  Indian  warfare,  designated  "  stomach- 
attacks."  It  was  while  engaged  in  one  of  the  latter  forms  of 
assault  that  Christian  was  captured,  and,  being  abandoned 
by  her  comrades,  was  haled  by  the  captors  before  Richard, 
the  Eldest  Statesman.  A  packed  Court-martial  of  enemies 
speedily  found  the  prisoner  guilty,  and  the  delicious  deter- 
mining of  the  punishment  absorbed  the  attention  of  the  Court. 
John,  with  a  poet's  fancy,  suggested  that  the  criminal  should 
be    compelled    to    lick    a    worm.    Judith,    more    practical, 


ao  MOUNT   MUSIC 

advocated  her  being  sent  to  the  house  to  steal  some  jam. 
**  I  fo  got  to,"  she  said. 

The  Court  was  held  in  th  •  Council  Chamber,  a  space 
between  the  birches  and  hazels  on  the  bank  of  the  Ownashee  ; 
a  fair  and  green  room,  ceiled  with  tremulous  leaves,  encircled 
and  made  secret  by  high  bracken,  out  of  which  rose  the 
tarnished-silver  stems  of  the  birch  trees  and  the  multitudinous 
hazel-boughs,  and  furnished  with  boulders  of  limestone, 
planted  deep  in  a  green  fleece  of  mingled  moss  and  grass. 
On  one  side  only  was  it  open  to  the  world,  yet  on  that  same 
side  it  was  most  effectively  divided  from  it,  by  the  swift 
brown  stream,  speeding  down  to  the  big  river,  singing  its 
shallow  summer  song  as  it  sped. 

Richard,  Eldest  Statesman,  gazed  in  dark  reflection 
upon  the  prisoner,  meditating  her  sentence  ;  the  prisoner, 
young  e  iough  to  tremble  in  the  suspense,  old  enough  to 
enjoy  the  nerve-tension  and  the  moment  of  drama,  gazed  back 
at  him.  Her  hair  lay  in  damp  rings,  and  hung  in  rats*-tails 
about  her  forehead.  Her  smill  face,  with  the  sil /er-clear 
skin,  stippled  here  and  there  with  tiny  freckles,  was  faintly 
flushed,  and  moist  with  the  effort  of  her  last  great  but  un- 
availing run  for  freedom  ;  her  wide  eyes  were  like  brown 
pools  scooped  from  the  brown  flow  of  the  Ownashee. 

**  I  adjudge,"  said  Richard,  in  an  awful  voice,  "  that  the 
prisoner  shall  amass  three  buckets  of  the  best  gravel.  The 
same  to  be  taken  from  the  shallow  by  the  seventh  stepping- 
stone." 

The  prisoner*s  little  brown  arm,  with  a  hand  thin  and 
brown  as  a  monkey's,  went  up  ;    the  recognised  protest. 

"  Not  the  seventh,  most  noble  Samurai,"  she  said, 
anxiously  ;   "  Won't  it  do  fr  m  t'le  strand  }  " 

"  I  hive  spoken,"  replied  the  Eldest  Statesman,  inflexibly. 

"  Then  I  won't  !  "  exclaimed  Christian  ;  "  I— I  couldn't ! 
The  riv.r  giddys  me  so  awfully  when  I  stand  still  on  the 
stones " 

"  Prisoner  !  "  returned  Rchard,  **  once  the  law  is  uttered, 
it  can't  be  unuttered  !     Off  you  go  !  " 

"  Well  then,  and  I  wil-  go  !  "  said  Christian,  with  a  wriggle 
so  fierce  and  sudden  that  it  loosed  the  grip  of  her  guards. 
It  is  even  pos  ible  that  the  ensuing  I'ghtning  dart  for  freedom 
might  have  succeeded,  but  for  the  unfortunate  fid.Lty^of 


MOUNT    MUSIC  21 

ker  allies,  Rinka  and  Tashpy.  The  one  sprang  at  her  brief 
sk'it  and  caught  it,  the  other  got  between  her  legs. 
She  fell,  and  was  delivered  ag  in  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy. 

Richard  was  not  a  bully,  but  Mrs.  Sarah  Battle  was  not 
more  scrupulous  than  he  in  obser\  ing  the  rigour  of  the  game. 
Christian  was  manacled  with  th?  belt  of  her  own  overall, 
and  was  hauled  along  the  golden,  but  despised,  gravel  of 
the  river  strand,  to  the  spot  whence  the  stepping-stcnes 
started. 

"  I'll  do  this  much  for  you,"  said  the  Eldest  Statesman, 
relaxing  a  little,  "  I'll  go  fir^t  and  carry  the  bucket." 

He  drag  zed  Christian  <  n  to  the  first  of  the  big,  flat,  old 
stepping-stones,  Judith  assis  ing  from  the  rear,  ani,  with 
increasing  difficulty,  two  more  stones  were  achieved.  Then 
they  paused  for  breath,  and  a  siidd  n  whirlwind  of  passion 
came  upon  the  captive.  She  began  to  struggle  and  dance 
upon  the  flat  stone,  madly  endeavouring  to  free  her  hands, 
while  she  shrieked  to  the  dastard  Twins  to  come  to  her  rescue. 

"  Cowards  !     Cowards  !     I  hate  you  all " 

**  Better  let  her  go,"  whispered  Judith,  who  knew  better 
than  her  Chief  what  Christian's  storms  meant. 

Richard  hesitated,  and,  as  in  a  mediaeval  romance,  at  this 
moment  a  champion  materialised. 

Not  the  Twi  IS,  lyinz  like  leopards  along  the  higher  boughs 
of  a  neighbouring  alder,  deeply  enjoying  the  spectacle,  but 
a  boy,  smaller  than  Richard,  who  came  crashing  through 
the  bushes  on  the  Coppinger's  Court  side  of  the  Ownashee. 
Arrived  at  the  ford,  he  stayed  neither  his  pace  nor  his  stride, 
and  before  the  Eldest  Statesman,  much  hampered  by  his 
prisoner  and  the  bucket,  could  put  up  any  sort  of  defence, 
the  unknown  rescuer  had  sprung  across  the  stepping-stones, 
and,  ci  tchin^  him  by  the  shoulders,  had,  by  sheer  force  of 
speed  and  surprise,  hurled  him  into  the  river. 

Thus  did  Larry  Coppinger,  informally  but  effectively, 
introduce  himself  to  his  second-cousins,  the  Talbot-Lowrys. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A  FORTNIGHT  or  SO  after  the  moving  incidents  that  have  just 
been  ecited,  Miss  Frederica  Coppinger,  and  her  nephew, 
St.  Lawrence  of  that  ilk,  were  spending  a  long  and  agreeable 
Sunday  afternoon  with  their  relatives  at  Mount  Music, 
elders  and  youngers  being  segregated,  after  their  kind,  and 
to  their  mutual  happiness. 

Major  Talbot-Lowry,  very  well  pleased  with  himself,  very 
tall  and  authoritative,  was  standing,  from  force  of  hab  it, 
on  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire-place  in  the  Mount  Music 
drawing-room,  and  was  cross-examining  Miss  Coppinger 
on  her  proposed  arrangements  for  herself  and  her  nephew, 
while  he  drank  his  tea  in  gulps,  each  succeeded  by  burnish- 
ing processes,  with  a  brilliant  silk  bandanna  handkerchief, 
such  as  are  necessitated  by  a  long  and  drooping  moustache. 

All  good-looking  people  are  aware  of  their  good  looks, 
but  the  gift  of  enjoying  them,  that  had  been  lavishly  bestowed 
on  Dick,  is  denied  to  many ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  companion 
gift,  of  realising  when  they  are  becoming  pleasures  of  memory, 
had  been  withheld  from  him.  Dick  was  of  the  happy  tem- 
perament that  believes  in  the  exclusive  immortality  of  his  own 
charms,  and  he  was  now  enjoying  his  conversation  with  his 
cousin  none  the  less  for  the  discovery  that  Miss  Coppinger, 
who  was  younger  than  he,  had  preserved  her  youth  very 
much  less  successfully  than  he  had  done. 

The  cross-examination  had  moved  on  to  the  subject  of 
Larry's  religion,  and  the  combative  fervour  of  Major  Dick's 
Protestantism  might  have  edified  John  Knox. 

22 


MOUNT   MUSIC  23 

*'  But  look  here,  Frederica,"  he  said,  putting  down  his  cup 
and  saucer,  with  a  crash,  on  the  high  mantelpiece,  "  you 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  boy  has  to  go  to  Mass  with  the 
servants — on  the  cook's  lap,  I  suppose — on  the  catside  car  ! 
Good  Heavens  !  Poor  old  Tom  !  Talk  about  turning  in 
his  grave  !  I  should  think  he  was  going  head  over  heels 
in  it  by  this  time  !  " 

This  referred  to  the  late  Colonel  Coppinger,  the  genuine- 
ness of  whose  conversion  to  his  wife's  Church  had  never 
been  accepted  by  Major  Talbot-Lowry. 

*'  My  dear  Dick  !  "  said  Lady  Isabel. 

Miss  Coppinger  closed  her  lips  tightly  with  an  air  of  high 
self-control. 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  opinion  !  "  she  said  blandly.  **  Tom 
was  perfectly  aware  of  what  changing  his  religion  involved, 
in  this  country — though  it's  probably  quite  different  in  India. 
In  any  case,  the  thing  is  done,  and  as  I  believe  it  to  be  my 
Duty  to  send  Larry  to  his  chapel,  to  his  chapel  he  shall  go ! " 

Unimaginative  people,  or  those  of  limited  vocabulary 
affixed  to  Miss  Coppinger  the  ancient  label  :  "A  typical  old 
maid,"  and  considered  that  no  further  definition  was  required  ; 
2nd,  since  her  appearance  conformed  in  some  degree  with 
stage  traditions,  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  them. 
If  labels  are  to  be  employed,  even  the  least  complex  of  human 
beings  would  suggest  a  much-travelled  portmanteau,  covered 
with  tags  and  shreds  from  hotels  and  railways.  Frederica 
shall  not  be  labelled  ;  let  it  suffice  to  say  that  she  was  tall 
and  thin,  and  nearer  fifty  than  forty  (which  was  a  far  greater 
age  thirty  years  ago  than  it  is  now),  and  that  she  had  a  sense 
of  fair  play  that  was  proof  against  her  zeal  as  an  Irish  Church- 
woman.  It  is  true  that  she  mentioned  what  she  regarded  as 
the  disaster  of  Larry's  rehgion  in  her  prayers,  but  she  did  so 
without  heat,  leaving  the  matter,  without  irreverence,  to  the 
common  sense  of  Larry's  Creator,  who,  she  felt  must  surely 
recognise  the  disadvantages  of  the  position  as  it  stood. 

"  I  cannot  possibly  interfere  with  Larry's  religion,"  pur- 
sued Miss  Coppinger,  with  a  defiant  eye  on  her  cousin, 
"  and  as  soon  as  we  are  a  little  more  settled  down  I  shall  ask 
the  priest  to  lunch.  Farther  than  that  I  don't  feel  called 
upon  to  go." 

"  Draw  the  line  at  dinner,  eh  ?  "  said  Major  Dick,  with 


24  MOUNT   MUSIC 

large  and  humorous  tolerance  :  "  /  know  very  little  about 
the  feller — he's  newly  come  to  the  parish — he  mayn't  be  a 
bad  sort  for  all  I  know — I'm  bound  to  say  he's  got  a  black- 
muzzled  look  about  him,  but  we  might  go  farther  and  fare 
worse.  I  should  certainly  have  him  to  lunch  if  I  were  you. 
Have  a  go  d  big  joint  of  roast  beef,  and  don't  forget  to  give 
him  his  whack  of  whisky  !  " 

"  I  never  have  whisky  in  the  house,"  said  Miss  Coppinger 
repressively.     "  Claret,  I  could  give  him ?  " 

Major  Talbot-Lowry  looked  down  at  his  cousin  with  the 
condescending  amusement  that  he  felt  to  be  the  meed  of 
female  godliness  especially  when  allied  with  temperance 
principles. 

"  Well,  claret  might  do  for  once  in  a  way,"  he  conceded, 
shaking  his  long  legs  to  take  the  creases  out  of  his  trou  ers, 
**  and  you  mightn't  find  Father  Sweeny  so  anxious  to  repeat 
the  dose — and  that  mightn't  be  any  harm  either  !  I  daresay 
you  wouldn't  object  to  that,  Frederica  !  Well,  good-bye, 
ladies  !     I'm  going  down  to  the  kennels " 

Lady  Isabel's  and  Miss  Coppinger's  eyes  followed  him,  as 
he  swung,  with  that  light  halt  in  his  leisurely  stride,  down  the 
long  d  aw  ng-room,  trolling  in  the  high  baritone,  that  some- 
one had  pleased  him  by  likening  to  a  cavalry  trumpet, 

*'  Oh,  Father  McCann  was  a  beautiful  man, 
But  a  bit  of  a  rogue,  a  bit  of  a  rogue  ! 
He  was  full  six  feet  high,  he'd  a  cast  in  his  eye, 
And  an  i  ligant  brogue,  an  illigant  brogue  !  " 

In  both  his  wife's  and  his  cousin's  faces  was  the  same 
look,  the  look  that  often  comes  into  women's  faces  when, 
unperceived,  they  regard  the  sovereign  creature.  Future 
generations  may  not  know  that  look,  but  in  the  faces 
of  these  women,  born  in  the  earlier  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  there  was  something  of  awe,  and  of  indulgence, 
of  apprehension,  and  of  pity.  Dick  was  so  powerful,  so 
blundering,  so  childlike.  Miss  Frederica  expressed  something 
of  their  common  thought  when  she  said  : 

"  Dick  seems  to  forget  that  he  is  Larry's  guardian  as  well 
as  I.  Also  that  Larry  is  a  Roman  CathoHc,  and  it  is  not 
only  useless  but  dishonourable  to  ignore  it  !  " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  25 

It  h  s  been  s  id  mat  Lady  Isabel  had  les  qualiies  de  ses 
defauts  ;  in  Miss  Coppinger's  cas-  the  words  may  be  restored 
to  their  r  ghtful  sequence.  She  had  the  inevitable  defauts 
de  ses  qualites.  The  sense  of  duty  was  rs  prominent  a  feature 
of  her  soul  a?  a  };ump  on  her  long  straight  back  would  have 
been,  but  toleration  was  inconspicuous.  She  ran  st  aight 
herself,  and  though  she  could  forgive  deviations  on  the  part 
of  others,  she  could  not  forget  them.  She  was  entirely  and 
implacably  Protestant,  a  typical  member  of  that  Church 
that  expects  friendship  from  its  votaries,  but  leaves  their 
course  of  action  to  their  own  consciences.  It  was  a  very 
successful  example  of  the  malign  humour  of  Fate  that  Miss 
Coppinger's  ward  should  belong  to  t'  e  other  Church,  that 
exac.  not  on'y  obedience,  but  passion,  and  it  was  a  mas  er- 
stroke  that  Frederica's  sense  of  duty  should  compel  her  to 
enforce  her  nephew  to  compliance  with  its  demands. 

*'  Dear  Frcderica,  Dick  will  leave  all  religious  things  to 

you,  I  know ''  warbled  Lady  Isabel,  in  her  gentle,  mu  ical 

voice,  that  suggested  something  between  trie  tones  of  a  wo:d 
pigeon  and  an  ocarina.  "  And  they  couldn't  be  in  better 
hands  !  " 

"  But  my  dear  Isabel,  that  is  precisely  what  I  complain  of ! 
Dick's  solitary  suggestion  ha>  been  that  we  should  send  Larry 
to  Winchester,  which  is  perfectly  impracticable  !  I 
entirely  agree  with  him,  but,  unfortunately,  1  know  that  it 

is  our  duty  to  send  him  to  one  of  those "     Miss  Cop- 

pinger  hesitated,  swallowed  several  adjectives,  and  ended  with 
Christian  tameness — "  one  of  those  special  schools  for 
Roman  Catholics." 

**  Well,  dear,  I  daresay  it  won't  make  very  much  difference," 
consoled  Lady  Isabel.  "  I  have  always  heard  that  Monks- 
hurst  was  a  charming  school,  and  dear  Larry  will  be  so  well 
off — I  don't  suppose  his  rehgion  will  interfere  in  any  w^ij. 
It  seldom  does,  does  it }  " 

"  Not,  I  admit,  unless  he  wanted  a  job  in  this  country  !  " 
began  Miss  Coppinger  grimly,  and  again  remembered  that 
intolerance  w^as  not  to  be  encouraged.  "  The  end  of  it  is 
that  I  shall  endeavour  to  do  my  duty — which  is,  apparently, 
to  do  everything  that  I  mo>t  entirely  disapprove  of — and  that 
on  the  day  Larry  is  twenty-one,  I  shall  march  out  of 
Coppinger's  Court,  and  dance  a  jig,  and  then  he  may  have 


26  MOUNT   MUSIC 

the  Pope  to  stay  with  him  if  he  hkes  !  " 

While  Miss  Coppinger  was  thus  belabouring  and  releasing 
her  conscience  in  the  drawing-room,  quite  another  matter 
was  engaging  the  attention  of  her  ward,  and  of  his  entertainers 
at  the  school-room  tea-table.  This  was  no  less  a  thing 
than  the  dissolving  of  the  existing  Bands,  and  the  formation 
of  a  new  society,  to  be  known  as  "  The  Companions  of 
Finn." 

Larry  Coppinger's  entrance,  literally  at  a  bound,  into  the 
Talbot-Lowry  family  group,  had  landed  him,  singularly 
enough,  into  the  heart  of  their  affection  and  esteem.  He 
was  now  the  originator  of  this  revolutionary  scheme,  and 
having  in  him  that  special  magnetic  force  that  confers  leader- 
ship, the  scheme  was  being  put  through. 

*'  The  point  is,"  he  said,  eagerly,  *'  that  when  we  are  split 
up  into  two  bands,  we  can  do  nothing  much,  but  the  lot  of 
us  together  might — might  make  quite  a  difference." 

"  Difference  to  what  ?  "  said  Richard,  ex- chief  of  the  Elder 
Statesmen,  unsympathetically.  Like  his  father  before  him, 
he  disliked  change. 

"  Well,  hold  on  !  "  said  Larry,  quickly,  "  wait  just  one 
minute,  and  I'll  tell  you.  I  got  the  notion  out  of  a  book  I 
found  in  the  library.     I  don't  expect  I'd  have  thought  of 

it  myself "     Larry's   transparent   sky  blue   eyes   sought 

Richard's  appealingly.  "  It's — it's  only  poems,  y  u  know, 
but  t's  most  frightfully  interesting — I  brought  it  with  me — " 

"  Oh — poems  !  "  said  Richard,  without  enthusiasm.  "  Are 
they  long  ones  ?  " 

"  I  don't  seem  to  care  so  aw^fully  much  rbout  poetry," 
abetted  Judith,  late  Second-in-command. 

John  looked  sapient,  and  said,  neutrally,  that  some  poetry 
wasn't  bad. 

The  Twins,  who  were  engaged  in  a  silent  but  bitter  struggle 
for  the  corpse  of  a  white  rabbit,  recently  born  dead,  made  no 
comment.  Only  Christian,  her  small  hands  clenched  together 
into  a  brown  knot,  her  eyes  fastened  on  Larry's  flushed  face, 
murmured  : 

"  Go  on,  Larry  !  " 

Larry  went  on. 

"  It's  called  the  Spirit  of  the  Nation,"  he  said.  "  It*s 
full  of  splendid  stuff  about  Ireland,  and  the  beastly  way 


MOUNT   MUSIC  27 

England's  treated  her.  It  sort  of — sort  of  put  the  notion 
into  my  head  that  we  might  start  some  sort  of  a  Fenian  band, 
and  that  some  day  we  might — well,"  he  turned  very  red, 
and  ended  with  a  rush,  "  we  might  be  able  to  strike  a  blow  for 
Ireland  !  " 

"  Moyoye  !  "  said  Richard,  intensifying  his  favourite  invoca- 
tion in  his  surprise,  "  but's  what's  wrong  with  Ireland  ?  " 

The  position  wanted  but  the  touch  of  opposition.  Larry 
rather  well  bet  Richard  that  there  was  plenty  wrong  with 
her  !  Penal  laws  !  Persecution  !  Saxon  despots  grinding 
their  heels  into  a  down-trodden  people  !  Revolution  ! 
Liberation  !  Larry  had  a  tongue  that  was  hung  loosely 
in  his  head  and  was  a  quick  servant  to  his  brain. 

"  Of  course  I  know  we're  rather  young — well,  you're  nearly 
fourteen,  Richard,  and  I'm  thirteen  and  three  months,  that's 
not  so  awfully  young.     Anyway,  everything's  got  to  have  a 

beginning "     He    glowed    upon    his    audience    of    six, 

his  fair  hair  in  a  shock,  his  eyes  and  his  cheeks  in  a  blaze, 
and  one,  at  least,  of  that  audience  caught  fire. 

The  Revolutionary  or  Reformer,  who  hesitates  at  becoming 
a  bore,  is  unworthy  of  his  high  office  ;  and  Larry,  like  most 
of  his  class,  required  but  little  encouragement.  He  produced 
a  large  book,  old  and  shabby,  the  green  and  gold  of  its  covers 
stained  and  faded,  but  still  of  impressive  aspect. 

**  There  are  heaps   of  them,   and  they're  all  jolly  good. 

It's  rather  hard  to   choose "  began  the   Revolutionary 

with  a  shade  of  nervousness.  Then  he  again  met  Christian's 
eyes,  shining  and  compelHng,  and  took  heart  from  them. 

*'  Well,  there's  *'  Fontenoy,"  of  course  that's  a  ripper — 
Well,  I  don't  know  what  you'll  all  think,  but  /  think  this  is 
a  jolly  good  one,"  he  said  with  a  renewal  of  defiance,  and 
began  to  read,  at  first  hurriedly,  but  gathering  confidence  and 
excitement  as  he  went  on: 


"  Did  they  dare,  did  they  dare,  to  slay  Owen  Roe  O'Neill  ? 
Yes,  they  slew  with  poison,  him  they  feared  to  meet  with 

steel. 
May  God  wither  up  their  hearts  !     May  their  blood  cease 

to  flow  ! 
May  they  walk  in  living  death,  who  poisoned  Owen  Roe  ! 


28  MOUNT   MUSIC 

We  thought  you  would  not  die — we  were  sure  you  would 

not  go, 
And  leave  us  in  our  utmost  need  to  Cromwell's  cruel  blow — 
Sheep  without  a  shepherd,  when  the  snow  shuts  out  the  sky — 
Oh  !     Why  did  you  leave  us,  Owen  ?     Why  did  you  die  ;  '* 


The  Elder  Statesmen  listened  in  critical  silence,  while 
Larry,  not  without  stumbles,  stormed  on  through  the  eight 
verses  of  the  poem.  When  he  had  finished  it,  there  was  a 
pause.  The  audience  were  impressed,  even  though  they  had 
no  intention  of  admitting  the  fact.  Christian  gave  a 
tremendous  sigh.  The  contest  for  the  defunct  rabbit,  that 
had  been  arrested,  broke  out  again,  fiercely,  but  with  caution. 
Then  Richard  said,  dubiously  : 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,  Larry — I  meant  it's  jolly  sad,  and 
awfully  good  poetry,  I'm  sure — but  how  on  earth  are  you 
going  to  work  a  show  out  of  it  ?     I  can't  see " 

**  Unless,"  interrupted  Judith,  thoughtfully,  "  unless  we 
sort  of  acted  it ?  '* 

John,  who  loved  "  dressing  up,"  woke  to  life  ;  even  Richard 
began  to  see  daylight. 

"  That's  not  a  bad  notion,  Judy  !  "  he  said  briskly  :  "  bags 
I  Cromwell  !     Larry,  you  can  be  Owen  what's-his-name." 

Larry  came  down  like  a  shot  bird  from  the  sphere  of 
romance  to  which  the  poem  had  borne  him. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  any  scheme,"  he  said,  pulling  himself 
together  ;  "I  only  wanted  to  give  you  a  kind  of  notion  of 
the  rotten  way  England's  always  treated  Ireland " 

"  But  let's  !  "  cried  Christian  ;  *'  let's  act  the  whole  book  !  " 

Truisms  are  of  their  essence  dull,  but  they  must  sometimes 
be  submitted  to,  and  the  truism  as  to  a  book's  possible 
influence  on  the  young  and  impressionable  cannot  here  be 
avoided.  What  it  is  that  decides  if  the  book  is  to  stamp 
itself  on  the  plastic  mind,  or  if  the  mind  is  to  assert  itself 
and  stamp  on  the  book,  is  a  detail  that  admits  less  easily  of 
dogmatism.  The  Companionage  of  Finn  remained  in  being 
for  but  two  periods  of  holiday.  Before  the  boys  had  returned 
to  school,  it  had  seen  its  best  days  ;  the  scheme  for  an  armed 
invasion  of  England  had  been  abandoned,  even  the  more 
matured  project  of  storming  Dublin  Castle  was  sei;  aside 


MOUNT    MUSIC  29 

by  the  end  of  the  Christmas  hohdays,  it  had  been  formally 
dissolved. 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand,  it  is  still  harder  to  explain 
what  it  was  in  those  fierce  denunciations  and  complaints, 
outcome  of  that  time  of  general  revolt,  the  "  Roarinsj  Forties  " 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  that  made  them  echo  in  Larry's 
heart,  nor  why  the  restless,  passionate  spirit  that  inspired 
them  should  have  remained  with  him,  a  perturbing  influence 
from  which  he  never  wholly  escaped.  His  young  soul 
burned  with  hatred  of  England,  borrowed  from  the  Bards  of 
*'  The  Na:ion  "  Offic  ;  he  lay  awake  at  nights,  stringing 
rhymes  in  emulation  of  their  shouts  of  fury,  or  picturing 
rebeUions,  of  which  he  was  to  be  the  leader  and  hero.  Larry's 
enthusiasms  were  wont  to  devour  not  him  only,  but  also  his 
friends.  It  is  impossible  to  escape  from  the  conclusion  that 
the  career  of  the  Companionage  of  Finn  was  abbreviated  by 
Larry's  determination  to  recite  to  the  Companions  of  the 
Order,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  the  poems  by  which, 
during  his  first  Irish  summer,  he  was  possessed.  There  came 
a  time  when  he  had,  as  he  believed,  put  away  childish  things, 
that,  returning  to  these  venerable  trumpet-blasts,  he  asked 
himself,  in  the  arrogance  of  youth,  how  these  stale  metaphors, 
these  conventional  phrases,  these  decorations  as  meretricious 
as  stage  jewellery,  and  metres  that  cantered  along,  as  he  told 
himself,  Hke  solemn  old  circus-horses,  could  have  had  the 
power  to  shake  his  voice  and  fill  his  eyes  with  tears,  as  he 
spoke  them  to  Christian,  who  had  so  soon  become  his  sole 
audience. 

The  strange  thing  was,  as  he  acknowledged  to  himself, 
that  while  he  could  mock  at  them  as  poetry,  he  could  not 
ignore  their  power.  The  intensity  of  their  hatred,  and  of 
their  sincerity,  made  itself  felt,  as  the  light  of  the  sun  will 
shine  through  the  crude  commonness  of  a  vulgar  stained- 
glass  window. 


CHAPTER   V 

There  was  one  person  who  viewed  the  enthusiastic  intimacy 
that  had  sprung  up  between  the  houses  of  Coppinger  and 
Talbot-Lowry,  with  a  disapproval  as  deep  as  it  was  prejudiced. 
He  was  a  person  whose  opinion  might,  by  the  thoughtless, 
be  considered  unimportant,  but  in  this  the  thoughtless 
would  greatly  err.  Robert  Evans  was  the  butler  at  Mount 
Music.  He  had  held  that  position  since  the  year  1859, 
from  which  statement  a  brief  and  unexacting  calculation 
will  establish  the  fact  that  he  had  taken  office  when  his  present 
master  was  no  more  than  twenty-one  years  old,  and,  it  being 
now  1894,  he  had  so  continued  for  35  years.  Possibly  a 
vision  of  an  adoring  and  devoted  retainer  may  here  present 
itself.  If  so,  it  must  be  immediately  dispelled.  In  Mr. 
Evans*  opinion,  such  devotion  and  adoration  as  the  case 
demanded,  were  owed  to  him  by  the  House  on  which  he  had 
for  so  long  a  time  bestowed  the  boon  of  his  presence,  and 
those  who  were  privileged  wi.h  his  acquaintance  had  no 
uncertainty  in  the  matter,  since  his  age,  his  length  of  service, 
his  fidelity,  and  the  difficulties  with  which  he  daily  contended, 
formed  the  main  subjects  of  his  conversation. 

In  the  palmier  days  of  the  Irish  gentry  there  were  many 
households  in  which  the  religion  of  the  servants  was  a  matter 
of  considerable  importance,  and  those  who  could  afford 
exclusiveness,  were  accustomed  to  employ  only  Protestants 
as  indoor  servants.  This  may  seem  like  an  unwarrantable 
invasion  of  the  inner  fortress  of  another  individual,  making 
his  views  spiritual  responsible  for  his  fortunes  temporal. 
But  in  Ireland,  in  the  earlier  half  of  the  troubled  nineteenth 
century,  such  differentiation  was  inspired  not  by  bigotry, 

30 


MOUNT    MUSIC  31 

but  by  fear.  When  a  man's  foes  might  be,  and  often  were, 
those  of  his  own  household,  that  his  servants  should  be  of 
his  own  religion  was  almost  his  only  safeguard  against 
espionage.  There  is  somewhat  to  be  said  on  both  sides  ; 
it  will  not  be  said  here,  but  that  there  have  been  times  in  Ireland 
when  such  precautions  were  required,  cannot  be  ignored. 

Robert  Evans  was  a  survivor  of  such  a  period.  Time  was 
when  he  strutted,  autocratic  and  imperious  as  a  turkey-cock, 
ruler  of  a  flock  of  lesser  fowl,  all  of  his  own  superior  creed  ; 
brave  days  when  he  and  Mrs.  Dixon,  the  housekeeper, 
herded  end  headed,  respectively,  a  bevy  of  "  decent  Pro- 
testant maids  "  into  Family  Prayers  every  morning,  and  packed 
"  the  full  of  two  covered  cars  '*  off  to  Knockceoil  Parish 
Church  on  Sundays.  Evans  rarely  went  to  church,  believing 
that  such  disciplines  were  superfluous  for  one  in  a  state  of 
grace,  but  the  glory  of  the  House  of  Talbot-Lowry  demanded 
a  full  and  rustling  pew  of  fv^male  domestics,  while  the  coach- 
man, and  a  footman  or  a  groom,  were  generally  to  be  relied 
on  10  give  a  masculine  stiffening  to  the  party.  With  Lady 
Isabel's  regime  had  come  a  slackening  of  moral  fibre,  a  culp- 
able setting  of  attainments,  or  of  convenience,  above  creed, 
in  the  administration  of  the  household.  Once  had  Lady 
Isabel  been  actually  overheard  by  Evans,  offering  to  a  friend, 
in  excuse  for  the  indifferent  show  made  by  her  household 
in  the  parish  church,  the  offensive  explanation  that  "  R.C.'s 
were  so  sympathetic,  and  so  easy  to  find,  while  Protestants 
were  not  only  scarce,  but  were  so  proud  of  being  Protestants, 
and  expected  so  much  admiration  " — here  she  had  perceived 
the  presence  of  Evans,  and  had  unavailingly  begun  upon  the 
weather,  but  Evans'  deep-seated  suspicions  as  to  the  laxity 
of  the  English  Church  had  been  confirmed. 

It  is  possible  that  the  greatest  shock  that  Evans  was  capable 
of  sustaining  was  administered  when  he  heard  of  the  secession 
to  the  enemy  of  Colonel  Tom  Coppinger.  Only  second 
to  it  was  the  discovery  that  Colonel  Tom's  poisoned  offspring 
was  to  be  received  at  Mount  Music  and  admitted  to  the  fellow- 
ship of  its  children. 

*'  No  !  "  Evans  said  to  Mrs.  Dixon,  standing  on  the  hearth- 
rug in  the  sanctuary  of  the  housekeeper's  room,  one  wet 
afternoon,  shortly  after  the  Coppinger  return  :  "  I  see  changes 
here,  better  and  worse,  good  and  bad,  but  I  didn't  think  I'd 


32  MOUNT   MUSIC 

live  to  see  what  I  seen  to-day — the  children  of  this  house 
consorting  with  a  Papist  !  " 

"  Fie  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dixon,  without  conviction.  She  was 
fat  and  easy-tempered,  and  though  ever  anxious  to  con- 
cihate  him  whom  she  respected  and  feared  as  "  Mr.  Eevans," 
her  powers  of  dissimulation  often  failed  at  a  pinch  of  this 
kind. 

Mr.  Evans  looked  at  his  stable-companion  with  a  contempt 
to  which  she  had  long  been  resigned.  He  was  a  short, 
thin,  bald  man,  with  a  sharp  nose  curved  like  a  reaping- 
hook,  iron-grey  whiskers  and  hair,  and  fierce  pale  blue  eyes. 
Later  on,  Christian,  in  the  pride  of  her  first  introduction  to 
Tennyson,  had  been  inspired  by  his  high  shoulders  and  black 
tailed  coat  to  entitle  him  **  The  many-wintered  crow,"  and 
the  name  was  welcomed  by  her  fellows,  and  registered  in 
the  repository  of  phrases  and  nicknames  that  exists  in  all 
well-regulated  families, 

'*  '  Fie  !  '  "  he  repeated  after  Mr>:.  Dixon,  witheringly. 
"  I  declare  before  God,  Mrs.  Di  on,  if  I  w^as  to  tell  you  the 
Pope  o*  Rome  was  coming  to  dinner  next  Sunday,  it's  all 
you'd  say  would  be  *  Fie  !  '  " 

Mrs.  Dixon  received  this  supposition  of  catastrophe  with 
annoying  calm,  and  even  reverted  to  Mr.  Evans'  earlier 
statement  in  a  manner  that  might  have  bewildered  a  less 
experienced  disputant  than  he. 

**  Well,  indeed,  Mr.  Eevans,"  she  said,  appeasingly,  "  Pd 
say  he  was  a  nice  child  enough,  and  the  very  dead  spit  of  the 
poor  Colonel.  I  dunno  what  harm  he  could  do  the  chi.dren 
at  all  ?  " 

The  Prophet  Samuel  could  scarcely  have  regarded  Saul, 
when  he  offered  those  ill-fated  apologies  relative  to  King 
Agag,  with  a  more  sinister  disfavour  than  did  Evans  view  Mrs. 
Dixon. 

"  I'll  say  one  thing  to  you,  Mrs.  Dixon,"  he  said,  moving 
to  the  door  with  that  laborious  shufHe  that  had  inspired  one  of 
the  hunted  and  suffering  tribe  of  his  pantry-boys  to  the  ejacu- 
lation :  "  I  thank  God,  there's  more  in  his  boots  than  what 
there's  room  for  !  " — "  and  I'll  say  it  once,  and  that'  enough  ! 
As  sure  as  God  made  little  apples,  trouble  and  disgrace  will 
follow  jumpers  !  " 

Mrs.  Dixon,  no  less  than  Evans,  disapproved  of  those  who 


MOUNT   MUSIC  33 

changed  their  reHgion,  but  this  denunciation  did  not  seem  to 
her  to  apply. 

•*  That  poor  child's  no  jumper  !  "  she  called  after  her 
antagonist ;  "  'twasn'this  fault  he  was  bom  the  way  he  was  !" 

Evans  slammed  the  door. 

Mrs.  Dixon  dismissed  the  controversy  from  her  easy  mind, 
looked  at  the  clock,  and  laid  down  her  knitting. 

"  Miss  Christian  '11  be  looking  for  her  birthday  cake  !  " 
she  said  to  herself,  hoisting  her  large  person  from  her  chair. 
Even  as  she  did  so,  there  came  a  rapping,  quick  and  urgent, 
at  the  window.  "  Look  at  that  now  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dixon 
"  I  wouldn't  doubt  that  child  to  be  wanting  the  world  in  her 
pocket  before  it  was  made  !  " 

**  Dixie  !  Dixie  !  Open  the  window  !  Hurry  !  I  want 
you  !  " 

Christian's  face,  surmounted  by  a  very  old  hunting-cap, 
and  decorated  with  a  corked  moustache,  appeared  at 
the  window. 

*'  The  Lord  save  us,  child  !  What  have  you  done  to  your- 
self ?  And  what  are  you  doing  out  there  in  the  wet  ?  " 
answered  Mrs.  Dixon,  reprovingly  ;  "  sure  the  cake  won't 
be  baked  for  ten  minutes  yet." 

*'  I  don't  want  the  cake.  I  only  want  some  biscuits,  please^ 
Dixie,  and  hurry  !  Amazon's  bolted,  and  Cottingham's 
asked  me  to  catch  her  !  If  you  had  a  bone,  Dixie,  she'd 
simply " 

Mrs.  Dixon  was  gone.  She  disapproved  exceedingly  of 
Christian's  role  as  kennel-boy,  but  as,  since  Christian's  first 
birthday,  she  had  never  refused  her  anything,  she  was  not 
prepared  on  her  tenth  to  break  so  well-established  a  habit. 

'*  I  dunno  in  the  world  why  Mr.  Cottingham  should  make  a 
young  lady  like  you  do  his  business  !  "  she  said,  putting  the 
requisitioned  bait  into  Christian's  eager,  up-stretched  hands, 
"  and  if  your  Mamma  could  see  you " 

**  Oh,  well  done,  Dixie  !  What  a  lovely  bone  !  Oh, 
thank  you  most  awfully  !  "  interrupted  Christian,  snatching 
at  the  dainties  provided,  and  flitting  away  through  the  grey 
veils  of  the  rain,  a  preposterous  little  figure,  clad  in  a  ragged 
kennel-coat,  that  had  been  long  since  discarded  by  the  hunts- 
man, a  pair  of  couples  slung  round  her  neck,  and  a  crop  in 
her  hand. 


34 


MOUNT   MUSIC 


It  was  a  chilly,  wet  August  afternoon.  It  had  rained  for 
the  past  three  days,  and  was,  by  all  appearances  prepared 
to  continue  to  do  so  for  three  more.  Christian  ran  across 
the  fields  to  the  kennels,  regardless  of  wet  overhead  or  under- 
foot, and  oblivious  of  the  corked  moustache,  which  ran  too, 
almost  as  fast  as  she  did.  She  had  made  a  detour  to  avoid  the 
schoolroom  windows.  Her  birthday  party  was  toward, 
and  charades  (accounting  for  her  moustache)  were  in  full 
swing.  But  the  message  from  Cottingham,  secretly  conveyed 
together  with  the  couples,  by  the  pantry  boy,  transcended  in 
importance  all  other  human  affairs.  She  had  slipped  away 
from  her  fellows,  and  having  endued  the  hunting  cap  and  the 
kennel  coat,  as  the  wear  suitable  to  such  an  occasion,  she  had 
not  lost  a  minute  in  coming  to  the  horn. 

Cottingham,  Major  Talbot-Lowry's  First  Whip  and  kennel 
huntsman,  a  single-souled  little  Devonshire  man,  whose 
dyed  hair  was  the  solitary  indication  of  the  age  it  was  intended 
to  conceal,  awaited  her  outside  the  kennels. 

"  Well,  Missie,  I  knew  you'd  come,"  he  said,  approvingly. 
*'  It's  Amazon  that's  away — that  little  badger-pye  bi  ch  we 
got  last  week — I  'ad  to  give  'er  a  bit  of  a  'iding — she  tried  to 
run  a  sheep  when  we  was  walkin'  out  last  evening — she's  a 
rewengeful  sort,  she  is,  and  very  artful,  and  when  we  gets 
near  kennels,  her  took  an'  bolted  past  Jimmy  over  the  'ill, 
an'  I  says  to  Jimmy,  *  Why  you  fool  '  I  says " 

The  tale  continued  at  length,  and  with  those  repetitions 
and  recapitulations  peculiar  to  the  simple,  but  by  no  means 
short  annals  of  the  poor,  and  especially  of  the  English  poor. 
Yet,  Christian,  the  impatient,  the  ardent,  stood  and  listened 
with  respectful  and  absorbed  interest.  Cottingham  might 
be  elderly,  egotistic,  long-winded,  but  at  this  period  of  her 
career.  Christian's  hot  heart  beat  throb  for  throb  with  his, 
and  the  thought,  as  he  said,  of  '*  that  pore  little  bitch  stoppin' 
out,  and  maybe  spoilt,  so  that  there'd  be  nothin'  for  us  but 
to  shoot  her,  through  learnin'  to  run  sheep,"  had  precisely 
the  same  horror  for  her  as  for  him. 

"  I  couldn't,  so  to  speak,  lay  me  'and  on  'er  now  ;  her 
wouldn't  let  me  go  anear  'er,  nor  she  wouldn't  let  Jinrniy 
neither,  but  she  ain't  far  away,  and  she'd  'ave  what  I  might 

call  cawnfidence  in  you,  Missie "     Cottingham  had   at 

ength  concluded  :    '*  Her's  that  sly  we  mightn't  never  see 


MOUNT    MUSIC  35 

*er  again  !  But  you  take  and  go  up  that  'ill,  Missie,  that's 
where  I  seen  'er  last,  I'll  lay  you  get  'er  if  anyone  can  !  " 

Christian,  "  still,"  as  Rossetti  says,  "  with  the  whole  of 
pleasure,"  received  these  instructions  reverently,  and  with 
the  pockets  of  the  kennel-coat  further  loaded  with  broken 
biscuit,  "  took  and  went  "  according  to  instructions.  She 
climbed  the  fence  behind  the  kennels,  and  addressed  herself 
lightly  to  the  ascent  of  the  hill.  It  was  a  long  hill,  that  began 
with  pasture  fields,  that  were  merged  imperceptibly  into 
moorland,  heather  and  furze.  There  were  sheep,  and  donkeys 
and  goats  on  it,  and  a  melancholy  old  kennel-horse  or  two,  all 
feeding  peacefully.  Amazon  could  not  be  accused  in  con- 
nection with  them,  so  Christian  reflected,  and  prepared  herself 
to  rebut  any  such  slander.  The  rain  was  lighter,  and  the 
soaking  mist  that  had  all  day  filled  the  valley,  was  slowly 
thinning,  and  revealing  the  mighty  scroll  of  silver  that  was 
the  river,  while  the  woods  and  hillsides  came  and  went, 
illusive  as  the  grey  hints  of  landscape  in  a  Japanese  water- 
colour.  But  at  the  mature  age  of  ten  years.  Christian  cared 
for  none  of  these  things.  She  saw  the  smoke  from  the  Mount 
Music  kitchen  chimney  blending  bluely  with  the  mist,  and 
thought  with  a  momentary  pang  of  the  birthday  cake.  She 
wondered  if  the  Companions  of  Finn  would  so  far  forget 
honour  and  fidelity  as  to  devour  it  without  her.  She  thought 
of  the  ten  candles  that  would  gutter  to  their  end,  untended 
by  the  heroine  of  the  celebration  ;  she  wondered  if  Cotting- 
ham  would  tell  Papa,  and  if  Papa  would  tell  Mother  ;  (thus 
did  this  child  of  the  'eighties  speak  of  her  parents,  the  musical 
abbredaions  of  a  later  day,  "  Mum,"  and  *'  Dad,"  not  having 
pnetrated  the  remoteness  in  which  her  home  was  placed)  ; 
she  al-o  wondered  if  there  would  be  a  row  about  her  getting 
wet.  All  these  things  seemed  but  too  probable,  but  she  was 
in  for  it  now. 

Near  a  ridge  of  the  hill,  in  one  of  the  shallow  valleys  that 
furr  wed,  like  ploughshares,  its  1  mg  slant,  there  was  a  dolmen, 
three  huge  stones,  with  a  fourth  poised  on  them.  Their 
grey  brows  rose  over  the  billows  of  bracken,  and  briers,  laden 
with  the  promise  of  fruit,  made  garlands  for  their  ancient 
heads.  Christian's  straying  advance  brought  her  along  the 
lip  of  the  little  valley  in  which  they  reposed,  and  quite  sud- 
denly there  rose  in  her  the  conviction  that  her  quest  was  nearing 


36  MOUNT   MUSIC 

success.  She  was  of  that  mysteriously-gifted  company  to 
whom  the  lairs  of  things  lost  are  revealed.  She  "  found 
things "  ;  she  was  "  lucky."  She  was  regarded  by  the 
servants  as  one  enfolded  in  the  cloak  of  St.  Anthony,  that 
inestimable  saint,  whose  mission  it  is  to  find  and  protect  the 
lost.  It  had  become  a  household  habit  to  appeal  to  Christian 
when  one  of  every  day's  most  common  losses  occurred.  She 
would  hearken  ;  her  little  thin  body  would  stiffen,  like  a  dog 
setting  his  game,  a  spark  would  light  in  her  brown  eyes,  and 
— how  led  who  can  say  ? — she  would  fly  like  a  wireless  message 
to  the  thing  sought  for. 

So  it  was  now,  on  the  furzy  side  of  Cnocan  an  Ceoil  Sidhe  ; 
she  knew  that  the  moment  had  come.  She  sat  down  on  a 
ledge  of  rock,  and  waited,  throbbing  with  anticipation,  and 
had  not  long  to  wait.  A  brown  shadow  moved  in  the  bracken 
rear  the  dolmen,  a  brown  face  peered  with  infinite  caution, 
round  a  flank  of  the  great  stones. 

"  Yoop  !  the  little  bitchie  !  "  said  Christian  to  the  horizon. 
Christian  was  an  apt  scholar,  and  Cottingham's  tone  and 
idiom  were  ahke  accurately  rendered. 

The  lady  thus  addressed  gazed  with  a  greater  intensity, 
but  did  not  move.  Christian  took  a  piece  of  dog-biscuit 
from  the  ragged  pocket  of  the  kennel-coat,  and,  still  walking 
closely  in  Cottingham's  steps,  bit  it,  ate  a  part  of  it,  and  care- 
lessly flung  the  remainder  in  the  direction  of  the  shadow. 
This  stole  forth,  and,  having  snapped  up  the  biscuit,  sank 
back  into  the  covert.     Christian  did  not  move. 

"  Amazon  !  "  she  crooned,  in  tones  in  which  a  doting  wood- 
pigeon  might  apostrophise  a  sickly  fledgling  ;  **  Amazon, 
my  darling  !  " 

Another  piece  of  biscuit  accompanied  the  apostrophe, 
and  poor  Amazon,  who  was  indeed  very  lonely  and  very 
hungry,  capitulated,  and  came  sidling  up  to  the  charmer, 
with  propitiatory  smiles,  and  deprecating  stern  wagging, 
beneath  her,  and  in  advance  of  her  hind  legs,  instead  of  above 
her  and  behinh  them. 

**  'Olding  the  buckle  in  the  right  'and,"  said  Christian  to 
herself,  in  faithful  quotation  from  the  great  ensample,  as  with 
a  swiftness  and  decision  that  were  creditable  to  her  training, 
she  put  the  couples  on  Amazon. 

Then  she  produced  the  bone  that  had  been  *'  Dixie's  "  bright 


MOUNT   MUSIC  37 

achievement,  and  it  was  while,  in  contentment  and  friend- 
ship, Amazon  was  crunching  it,  that  Larry  Coppinger  appeared. 

He  rose  from  behind  a  spur  of  rock  and  furze,  and  came 
tov/ards  Christian. 

*'  Oh,  good  for  you  !  "  he  said,  admiringly,  "  I  was  afraid 
to  show  up  till  you  had  got  her." 

Christian  was  not  sure  that  she  was  pleased  at  this 
intervention. 

"  How  did  you  know  where  I  was  }  " 

'*  The  serv^ants  told  me  you  had  gone  to  the  kennels,  and 
Jimmy  showed  me  the  hill,  and  then  I  spotted  your  white 
coat — not  that  it's  so  awfully  white  ! — I  thought  it  was  rather 
rotten  to  let  you  go  alone." 

*'  And  why  not,  pray  ?  "  enquired  Christian,  haughtily. 
Male  assumption  of  the  duties  of  guardianship  was  a  thing 
she  found  highly  offensive  ;   "I  always  go  about  alone  !  " 

*'  Well,  I  wanted  to  come,  any^vay,"  said  Larry,  with  a 
placating  grin.     '*  I  say,  that  is  an  awful  nice  dog  !  " 

"  You  never  call  foxhounds  *dogs  *  !  "  said  Christian,  still 
with  hauteur  ;  "  Larry,  you  are  an  owl  !  " 

But  she  enjoyed  the  consciousness  of  knowing  more  than 
he  did  ;  she  even  forgave  him  his  superfluousness.  She 
thought  it  was  rather  decent  of  him  to  have  come,  and  she 
let  him  lead  Amazon  for  a  part  of  the  way,  only  reserving 
to  herself  the  entry  into  the  presence  of  Cottingham,  bringing 
her  sheaf  with  her. 


CHAPTER   VI 

Are  childhood  and  youth  indeed  Vanity  ?  When  Christian 
looks  back  upon  her  childhood  at  Mount  Music,  it  seems  to 
her  that  the  World,  and  Life,  and  Time,  could  hardly  have 
bettered  it  for  her,  however  they  might  have  put  their  heads 
together  over  the  job. 

All  her  memories  are  steeped  in  sunlight.  It  was  all  fun 
and  fights,  and  strawberries  and  dogs,  and  donkey-riding, 
and  hot  evenings  on  the  big  river,  with  the  hum  of  flies  in 
her  ears,  and  Larry,  hailing  her  from  the  farther  bank  of  the 
Ownashee,  across  the  stepping-stones.  And  whenever  she 
thought  about  the  schoolroom,  it  was  always  warm  and  rather 
jolly,  especially  in  the  Christmas  holidays.  They  used  to 
have  drawing  competitions,  of  which  Larry  was,  of  course, 
the  promoter,  in  the  old  schoolroom,  during  the  long  winter 
evenings.  Larry  always  had  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  and  was 
renowned  as  an  artist  of  horses  and  hounds,  and  Finn's 
wolf-dog.  Bran,  besides  wielding  a  biting  pen  as  a  caricaturist. 
Christian  could  only  compete  in  architectural  designs  that 
demanded  neatness  and  exactness,  but  Georgy,  the  elder  twin, 
had  some  skill  in  marine  subjects,  and,  since  he  was  going  to  the 
"  Britannia,"  arrogated  to  himself  the  position  of  being  an 
authority  on  shipping  ;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  general 
satisfaction  was  felt  when  he  was,  one  evening,  worsted  by 
Christian.  The  subject  selected  for  competition  was  "  A 
Haunted  Ship." 

'*  Where  shall  I  put  the  ghost  ?  "  Georgy  debated,  chewing 
the  end  of  his  pencil,  with  his  head  on  one  side. 

"  In  the  shrouds,  of  course  !  "  says  Christian. 

**  Funny  dog  !  "  sneered  Georgy,  who  considered  that  his 
artistic  efforts  were  no  fit  subject  for  jesting.    "  You'd  better 

38 


MOUNT    MUSIC  39 

come    and  shove    in    one  of  your  Midianites  for  me  !  " 

Then  Christian,  with  the  disconcerting  swiftness  of  action, 
mental  and  physical,  that  was  peculiarly  hers,  snatched,  in 
a  flash,  the  mug  of  painting-water  from  Larry's  elbow,  and 
poured  its  contents  over  Georgy's  fair  bullet-head  ;  with 
which,  and  with  a  triumphing  cry  (learnt  from  a  County  Cork 
kitchenmaid,  and  very  fashionable  in  the  schoolroom)  of 
"  A-haadie  !  "  she  fled,  "  lighter-footed  than  the  fox,"  and 
equally  subtle  and  daring. 

Christian  was  not  easily  roused  to  wrath,  but  when  this 
occurred,  youngest  of  the  party  though  she  was,  it  was  but 
rarely  that  victory  did  not  rest  with  her.  Two  subjects 
were  marked  dangerous  among  these  children,  during  the 
combative  years  of  *'  growing  up,"  and  were  therefore 
specially  popular ;  of  these,  the  one  was  Christian's  reputed 
occLilt  power,  coupled  with  gibes  based  on  that  hymn  to  which 
reference  has  been  made  ;    the  other  was  Larry's  religion. 

To  the  Talbot-Lowry  children,  their  own  religion  was 
largely  a  matter  of  fetishes,  with  fluctuating  restrictions  as  to 
what  might  or  might  not  be  done  on  Sundays,  but  they  found 
Larry's  a  more  stimulating  subject.  It  was  impossible  for 
them  to  refrain  from  speculations  as  to  what  Larry  said  when 
he  went  to  confession  ;  equally  impossible  not  to  propose 
to  the  prospective  penitent  an  assortment  of  sins  to  be  avowed 
at  his  next  shriving,  even  though  the  suggestions  seldom 
failed  to  provoke  conflict  of  the  intensity  usually  associated 
with  religious  warfare. 

Lady  Isabel,  confronted  with  these  problems,  fell  back  on 
the  manuals  of  her  own  youth,  with  their  artless  pronounce- 
ments on  the  Righteous,  the  Wicked,  their  qualifications, 
their  prospects  ;  and,  since  the  manuals  had  an  indisputable 
flair  for  the  subjects  most  Hkely  to  seize  the  attention  of  the 
young.  Lady  Isabel  was  generally  able  to  divert  her  off- 
spring's attention  from  the  Errors  of  Rome,  with  digested 
narratives  of  "  Adamaneve "  (pronounced  as  one  word) 
and  the  Serpent,  Balaam's  Ass,  Jonah's  Whale,  and  similar 
non-controversial  matters. 

*'  Wiser  people  than  you  and  me,  darlings,"  she  would  say, 
with  a  slight  stagger  in  grammar,  but  none  in  orthodoxy, 
"  have  explained  it  all  for  us " 

**  Larry's  papa  and  mamma  didn't  quite  think  the  same 


40  MOUNT   MUSIC 

as  we  do,  but  we  needn't  think  about  that,  my  pet  !  " 

"  But,  mother,  Evans  says  that  the  Pope "  appalling 

prognostications  as  to  the  future  of  that  dignitary  would 
probably  follow. 

Unfortunate  Lady  Isabel  !  But  parents  and  guardians 
have,  at  least,  the  power  of  the  closure. 

**  We  needn't  talk  about  it  now,"  says  the  hard-pressed 
mother,  **  when  you're  grown  up  you  will  understand  it  all 
better " 

With  Christian,  however,  this  formula  was  less  efficacious 
than  v.ith  her  elder  brothers  and  sister.  Her  questioning, 
analysing,  unwearying  brain  ignored  the  closure,  and  evaded 
poor  Lady  Isabel's  evasions.  Her  religious  life  had  been 
singularly  vivacious,  and  the  scope  and  variety  of  the  petitions 
that  she  nightly  offered  caused  considerable  embarrassment 
to  her  mother.  What  was  any  good  Church  of  England,  or 
Ireland,  mamma  to  do  when  an  infant  of  four  years  implores 
its  Deity  : 

"  Make  me  to  have  a  good,  fat,  lively  conscience,  and  even 
if  God  curses  me,  help  me  not  to  mind  a  bit  !  " 

The  scandalised  mamma  decided  that  extempore  prayer 
must  be  discouraged,  and  seeking  out  in  one  of  the  manuals 
a  form  of  prayer  of  strictly  limited  range,  repressed  all 
additions  and  emendations. 

Obedient  to  the  traditions  of  her  own  youth.  Lady  Isabel, 
as  her  children  successively  attained  the  mature  age  of  six 
years,  bestowed  Bibles  upon  them,  but  it  was  Christian, 
alone  of  the  family,  that  applied  herself  with  any  dihgence  to 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures.  She  began  with  the  Book  of 
Esther  (in  which  she  found  a  satisfaction  that  in  after  life 
remained  something  of  a  bewilderment  to  her),  and  thence, 
but  this  was  a  year  or  two  later,  for  no  reason  that  can  be 
assigned,  she  passed  lightly  to  the  Book  of  Revelation.  With 
it,  it  may  be  said,  the  artistic  side  of  her,  that  had  leaped  to 
sympathy  with  Larry's  emotion  over  *'  Dark  Rosaleen " 
and  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Nation,"  awakened,  and  her  artistic 
life  began.  That  glittering,  prismatic  chapter,  that  tells  of 
the  rainbow  round  about  the  Throne,  in  sight  like  unto  an 
emerald,  and  the  Sea  of  glass,  like  unto  crystal,  that  was 
before  the  Throne,  and  the  thunderings  and  the  voices,  and 
the  Voice  as  it  were  a  trumpet  talking.     Christian  read  the 


MOUNT    MUSIC  41 

chapter  over  and  over  again,  for  the  sheer  glory  of  the  beautiful 
words.  She,  also,  knew  of  Voices,  and  Music,  that  other 
people  did  not  seem  to  hear.  She  could  understand,  and 
could  tremble  to  those  strange  shouts,  and  trumpet-blasts, 
and  thunderings. 

The  Pale  Horse  that  happened  after  the  Fourth  Seal  was 
broken  ! 

She  would  sit  as  still  as  if  she  were  frozen,  while  she  thought 
of  the  Pale  Horse  coming  crashing  through  Dharrig  Wood, 
with  Death  on  his  back,  and  Hell  following  with  him — she 
always  thought  of  him  in  that  black  wood  of  pine  trees 

**  Wake  up,  Christian  !  "  Miss  Weyman,  the  governess, 
would  say. 

One  of  the  Twins  would  hiss  between  his  teeth : 
**  Christian,  dost  thou  see  them  .''  " 

Christian  would  feel  a  spiritual  bump,  as  though  she  had 
been  flung  off  her  chair  on  to  the  schoolroom  floor,  and  Miss 
Weyman  (always  enviously  spoken  of  by  adjacent  mammas 
as  "  that  most  sensible  little  Englishwom.an  ")  would  say  : 

"  I  wonder  how  much  you  heard  of  what  I  was  reading  ! 
I  wish  I  could  see  you  learning  to  have  a  little  more  con- 
centration !  " 

Whereas,  did  the  excellent  Miss  Weyman  only  know  it, 
a  very  little  more  concentration  on  Christian's  part,  and  it  is 
possible  that  she,  and  Judith,  and  the  Twins,  might  all  have 
seen  the  Pale  Horse  thundering  past  the  schoolroom  windows. 
Stranger  things  have  happened.  The  Indian  rope  and  basket 
trick,  for  instance. 

**  A  most  curious  child — a  perfect  passion  for  animals, 
and  so  dreamy,  if  you  know  what  I  mean,"  Miss  Weyman 
would  say  to  a  comrade  visitor.  "  And  the  things  that  she 
seems  to  have  learnt  from  the  huntsman  !  But  really  a  nice 
little  thing,  and  clever,  too,  though  a  most  erratic  worker  ! 
Now,  Judith "  Miss  Weyman  felt  there  was  some  satis- 
faction in  teachin:^  Judith.  She  could  concentrate,  if  the 
comrade  visitor  liked  !  Nothing  was  a  difficulty  to  her  ! 
And  her  memory-  !  And  her  energy — Miss  Weyman  freely 
admitted  that  Judith  was  three  years  older  than  Christian, 
but  still 

In  short,  Judith  was  a  credit  to  any  sensible  little  English- 
woman, but  Christian  had  a  way  of  knowing  nothing  (as 


42  MOUNT   MUSIC 

touching  arithmetic,  for  example),  or  too  much  (as  touching 
Shakespeare  and  the  Book  of  Revelation),  that  implied 
considerable  independence  as  to  the  instructions  of  Miss 
Weyman,  and  no  sensible  httle  Englishwoman  could  be 
expected  to  enjoy  that. 


CHAPTER   VII 

It  is  not  peculiar  to  Irish  incomes  to  fail  to  develop  in  response 
to  increasing  demands  upon  them.  It  was,  however,  a 
distinctive  feature  of  the  incomes  of  those  who  were  Irish 
landlords  during  the  latter  years  of  the  Victorian  era,  to 
shrink  in  steady  response  to  the  difficulties  of  English  govern- 
ment in  Ireland.  Only  Irish  people  can  understand  the  com- 
plicated processes  of  erosion  to  which  Dick  Talbot-Lowry's 
resources  were  subjected,  or  can  realise  the  tests  of  fortitude 
and  endurance  to  a  man  of  spirit,  that  were  involved  by  the 
visitations  of  *'  Commissioners,"  with  their  fore-ordained 
mission  of  lowering  Dick's  rents,  rents  that,  in  Dick's  opinion, 
were  already  philanthropically  low.  Major  Talbot-Lowry, 
like  many  of  his  tribe,  though  a  pessimist  in  politics,  was  an 
optimist  in  most  other  matters,  and  found  it  impossible  to 
conceive  a  state  of  affairs  when  he  would  be  unable  to  do — 
approximately — whatever  he  had  a  mind  for.  At  the  age 
of  fifty-eight,  fortitude  and  endurance  are  something  of  a 
difficulty  for  a  gentleman  unused  to  the  exercise  of  either  of 
these  fine  qualities,  and  after  keeping  the  Broadwater  Vale 
Hounds,  for  seventeen  years,  as  hounds  should  be  kept, 
regardless  of  the  caprices  of  the  subscription  list,  Major- 
Talbot  Lowry  felt  that  he  had  deserved  better  of  his  country 
than  that  he  should  now  have  to  institute  minor  economies, 
such  as  putting  his  men  into  brown  breeches,  foregoing  the 
yearly  renewal  of  their  scarlet  coats,  and  other  like  humilia- 
tions. Farther  than  details  such  as  these,  his  sense  of  right 
and  wrong  did  not  permit  him  to  go. 

"  There  are  some  things  that  they  can't  expect  a  gentle- 
man to  do,"  he  would  say  to  his  cousin,  Miss  Coppinger, 
*'  and  as  long  as  I  keep  the  hounds " 

"  Then,  my  dear  Dick,  if  you  can't  afford  them,  why  keep 
them  ?"  Frederica  would  rejoin,  with  unsparing  common  sense. 

43 


44  MOUNT    MUSIC 

Unmarried  ladies  of  mature  age,  have,  as  a  rule,  learned 
not  only  fortitude  and  endurance,  but  have  also  mastered 
the  fact  that  ways  are  governed  by  means.  Those  processes 
of  erosion,  however,  to  which  reference  has  been  made,  were, 
comparatively  speaking,  slow  in  operation,  and  there  remained 
always  Lady  Isabel's  twenty  thousand  golden  sovereigns, 
as  safe  and  secluded  in  the  hands  of  trustees  (who  had  a  con- 
stitutional disbelief  in  Irishmen),  as  if  they  were  twenty 
thousand  nuns  under  the  rule  of  a  royal  abbess. 

Therefore  did  Major  Talbot-Lowry,  M.F.H.,  and  the 
Broadwater  Vale  Hounds,  make  a  creditable  show,  brown 
breeches  and  last  season's  pink  coats  notwithstanding,  at 
the  meet  at  Coppinger's  Court,  on  December  26th  of  the  year 
1897.  The  weather  was  grey  and  silver,  with  a  light  south- 
east wind  and  a  rising  glass.  Sunshine  was  filtering  down, 
as  it  were  through  muslin  curtains  that  might  at  any  moment 
be  withdrawn  ;  some  crocuses  and  snowdrops  had  appeared 
in  the  grass  round  the  wide  gravel  sweep  in  front  of  the 
house  ;  there  was  a  perplexed  primrose  or  two,  deceived  by 
the  sun  as  to  the  date  ;  the  scent  of  the  violets  in  the  bed  under 
the  drawing-room  windows,  came  in  delicate  whiffs  round  the 
corner  of  the  house.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  beUeve 
that  but  twenty-four  hours  ago,  Christmas  hymns  had  been 
shouted,  and  Christmas  presents  presented,  had  not  a  group 
of  "  Wran-Boys  "  offered  irrefutable  testimony  that  this  was 
indeed  the  Feast  of  Stephen.  These,  a  ragged  and  tawdry 
little  cluster  of  mummers,  shabby  survivors  of  mediaeval 
mysteries,  were  gathered  round  their  ensign  holly-bush 
in  front  of  the  hall-door  steps.  From  the  holly-bush  swung 
the  corpse  of  the  wren,  and  from  the  throats  of  the  Wran- 
Boys  came  the  song  that  recounts  the  wicked  wren's  pursuit 
and  slaughter  : 

"  The  Wran,  the  Wran,  the  King  of  all  birds, 
On  Stephenses'  Day  was  cot  in  the  furze, 
And  though  he  is  little,  his  family  is  great, 
Rise  up,  good  gentlemen,  and  give  us  a  thrate — Huzzay  !  " 

Wherever  in  South  Munster  two  or  three  boys  were 
gathered  together,  that  song  was  being  sung,  and  Major 
Talbot-Lowry  and  his  staff  had  already  met  so  many  of  such 


MOUNT    MUSIC 


45 


companies  on  their  way  to  the  Meet,  that  their  horses'  indigna- 
tion at  finding  a  further  collection  of  nightmares  at  Cop- 
pinger's  Court  was  excusable. 

On  the  high  flight  of  hall-door  steps,  stood  Larry  and  Miss 
Coppinger,  the  former  pale  with  excitement,  the  latter 
doggedly  resigned  to  the  convention  that  compelled  her  to 
offer  intoxicating  drinks  to  people  who,  as  she  said,  had  but 
just  swallowed  their  breakfasts.  Larry  had  learned  many 
things  since  that  day  of  abysmal  ignorance  when  he  had 
spoken  of  Amazon  as  a  *'  nice  dog."  Among  his  many 
enthusiasms  he  now  included  a  passion  for  the  chase,  and  all 
that  appertains  to  its  elaborate  cult,  that  complied  with 
Christian's,  and  even  Cottingham's,  sense  of  what  was 
becoming,  and,  having  dedicated  a  shelf  in  the  library  to 
books  on  hunting,  he  had  read  them  all,  with  the  same  ardour 
that,  four  years  earlier,  he  had  brought  to  bear  on  The 
Spirit  of  the  Nation  and  Irish  history. 

Major  Talbot-Lowry  looked  down,  from  the  top  of  his 
tall,  white-faced  chestnut,  on  his  young  cousin,  and  accepted 
the  glass  of  port  that  Larry  reverently  offered  to  him,  with  a 
pleased  appreciation  of  the  reverence.  Cousin  Dick  was  not 
invariably  pleased  with  his  young  cousin.  He  had  gathered, 
hazily,  from  his  wife,  such  of  the  tenets  of  the  Companions 
of  Finn  as  she,  instructed  by  Miss  Weyman,  had  been  able  to 
impart,  and  had  not  approved  of  them,  nor  of  Larr}^'s  part 
in  introducing  them  to  his  young  ;  also  it  was  annoying 
(especially  when  he  remembered  the  brown  breeches,  etc.) 
to  think  of  a  young  cub  of  a  boy  having  more  money  than  he 
knew  what  to  do  with  ;  and,  finally,  and  all  the  time,  there 
was  that  almost  unconscious,  inbred  distrust  of  Larry's 
religion. 

Nevertheless,  it  has  been  said  that  "  wise  men  live  in  the 
present,  for  its  bounties  suffice  them,"  and  Dick,  if  not  vrey 
wise,  was  very  good-natured,  and  was  wise  enough  to  realise 
that  the  fine  weather,  and  the  good  horse  under  him,  and  even 
Larry's  homage,  were  bounties  sufficient  unto  the  day. 

**  Got  a  fox  for  me,  Larry  ?  That's  right.  Good  boy. 
Where  d'ye  think  we'll  find  him  ?  " 

*'  He's  using  the  Quarry  Wood  earth,  Cousin  Dick,"  said 
Larry,  breathlessly,  with  the  anxiety  of  the  owner  of  the 
coverts    alight   in    his    eyes.     "I'm   certain    he's    there.     I 


46  MOUNT   MUSIC 

went  round  with  Sullivan  myself  last  night,  and  we  stopped 
the  whole  place.     I  bet  he'll  not  get  in  anywhere  !  " 

"  Good  !  ril  draw  the  Quarry  Wood  first,"  said  Cousin 
Dick,  with  royal  benignity.  "  You  get  away  outside  at  the 
western  end,  and  keep  a  look-out  for  him." 

A  heavy  man,  on  an  enormous  grey  horse,  had  approached 
the  Master,  having  edged  his  way  through  the  hounds  with 
ostentatious  care.  He  was  of  a  type  sufficiently  common 
among  southern  Irishmen,  with  thick,  strong-growing, 
black  hair,  a  large,  black  moustache,  and  heavy  brows,  over- 
shadowing eyes  of  precisely  the  same  shade  of  blunted  blue 
as  his  shaven  chin. 

**  He's  a  credit  to  his  breeding.  Major  !  "  said  the  heavy 
man,  indicating  Larry  with  a  sandwich  from  which  he  had 
taken  a  bite  of  the  size  of  one  of  his  horse's  hoofs  ;  "  I  wish 
we  had  a  few  more  lads  coming  on  in  the  country  like  him  !  " 

"  What  good  are  they  going  to  do  ?  "  responded  the  Master, 
reverting  to  the  pessimistic  mood  that  was  daily  becoming 
more  frequent  with  him  ;  "  what  chance  is  there  for  a  gentle- 
man in  this  damned  country  ?  You  might  as  well  have  a 
mill-stone  round  your  neck  as  an  Irish  property  these  times  ! 
What  do  you  suppose  will  be  left  to  us  after  the  next  *  Revision 
of  Rents,'  as  they  call  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  deuce  a  much  indeed,"  returned  Doctor  Mangan, 
equably,  "  but  it  mightn't  be  so  bad  as  that  altogether  !  I 
have  my  little  girl  out  for  the  first  time  to-day,  Major.  I 
wonder  might  I  ask  your  man,  that's  looking  after  your  young 
ladies,  to  have  an  eye  to  her,  too  ?  " 

Doctor  Mangan  withdrew  with  the  required  permission, 
and  with  his  daughter  at  his  heels,  proceeded  through  the 
assembling  riders  and  carriages,  distributing  greetings  as 
he  went. 

Doctor  Francis  Aloysius  Mangan  was  one  of  the  leading 
doctors  in  the  district  of  which  the  towns  of  Cluhir  and 
Riverstown  each  felt  itself  to  fill  the  most  important  place. 
Ireland  grows  doctors  and  clergymen  with  almost  equal  success 
and  profusion.  There  is  in  the  national  character  a  consider- 
able share  of  the  constituents  that  are  valuable  in  both 
professions.  Power  of  sympathy,  good-nature,  intuition, 
adroitness,  discernment  of  character,  and  a  gift  for  taking 
every  man  in    his    humour.      Qualities    that    are    perhaps 


MOUNT    MUSIC  47 

beside     the     specialised     requirements,     but     are     equally 
indispensable. 

In  what  degree  these  attributes  were  bestowed  upon  Doctor 
Mangan  may  gradually  be  ascertained  by  the  patient  reader, 
but  in  the  case  of  Father  David  Hogan,  P.P.,  of  Riverstown, 
at  this  juncture  in  lively  converse  with  the  Misses  Talbot- 
Lowry,  the  reader  may  be  spared  the  exercise  of  that  tire- 
some virtue,  and  may  feel  confident  that  Father  Hogan 
failed  in  none  of  the  qualities  that  have  been  enumerated. 
Father  David  was,  indeed,  the  most  popular  man  in  the 
country  with  all  classes  and  creeds  ;  he  was  universally 
known  ^s  the  Chaplain  of  the  B.V.H.,  and  was  accounted 
one  of  the  chiefest  glories  of  the  hunt.  Major  Talbot-Lowry 
was  accustomed  to  boast,  in  places  where  such  as  he  congre- 
gate, that  He,  in  His  country,  had  the  best  priest  in  Ireland  ! 
A  real  good  man.  Kept  the  farmers  civil  and  friendly 
Managed  a  district  for  the  Fowl  Fund.  And  a  topper  to 
ride — always  at  the  top  of  the  hunt  ! 

*'  Trust  a  priest  to  have  a  c;ood  horse  !  "  is  the  rejoinder 
prescribed  in  such  cases,  and  Major  Dick's  fellows  seldom 
failed  to  comply  with  the  ritual. 

Father  David,  stout,  jolly,  and,  like  his  namesake,  of  a  ruddy 
countenance,  mounted  upon  a  black  mare  as  stout  and  sport- 
ing-looking as  himself,  was,  as  Dr.  Mangan  drew  near  to 
the  Misses  Talbot-Lowry,  beaming  upon  these  two  lambs 
from  another  fold,  and  having  congratulated  Miss  Judith 
on  the  appearance  of  the  grey  mare  that  she  was  riding  (reft 
from  Lady  Isabel  and  the  victoria),  was  endearing  himself 
to  Miss  Christian  by  tales  of  the  brace  of  hound  puppies 
that  he  was  walking  for  the  hunt. 

The  advantage  of  being  the  youngest  member  of  a  large 
family  is  one  that  takes  a  considerable  time  to  mature. 
Christian  was  thirteen  years  old  before  what  was  left  of  one 
of  the  Hunt  horses,  after  seven  strenuous  seasons  of  official 
work,  was  placed  at  her  sole  disposal.  This  residue,  battered 
though  it  was,  and  a  roarer  of  remarkable  power  and  volume, 
was  incapable  of  falling,  and  with  anything  under  eight  stone 
on  its  piebald  back  (piebald  from  incessant  and  sedulously 
concealed  saddle-galls)  could  always  be  trusted  to  keep  within 
reasonable  distance  of  hounds  when  they  ran.  It  was  for- 
tunate for  Christian  that  Judith,  now  sixteen,  and  far  from  a 


48  MOUNT,  MUSIC 

feather-weight,  had  renounced  her  share  in  **  Harry,"  and 
had  estabHshed  a  right  in  the  grey  mare.  Judith  was  a 
buccaneer.  Charles,  the  coachman,  (in  connection  with  the 
commandeering  of  the  grey  mare,  which  he  resented)  had  said 
of  her  to  his  respected  friend,  Mr.  Evans  :  "  Ah,  ha  !  That's 
the  young  lady  that'll  get  her  whack  out  of  the  world  !  " 

And  Mr.  Evans'  reaping-hook  nose  had  sniffed  assent. 

Yet,  though  Judith  was  averted,  the  Christmas  holidays 
always  held  the  menace  of  brothers  to  be  reckoned  with 
as  rival  claimants  for  Harry. 

"  The  boys,  darling  !  "  "  Unselfishness,  darling  !  "  "  After 
the  holidays,  my  child  !  " 

Lady  Isabel  was  of  the  school  that  inculcated  self-denial 
for  its  daughters,  but  never  for  its  sons  ;  (whether  from  a 
belief  that  such  was  inherent  in  the  male  sex,  or  from  a  fear 
that  the  effort  would  be  misplaced,  it  is  difficult  to  say). 
Christian  was  ever  quick  to  respond  to  the  call  for  martyr- 
dom, but  that  the  Twins  should  both  maltreat  and  despise 
the  venerable  Harry,  added  a  poignancy  to  renunciation 
that  placed  it  almost  beyond  attainment.  On  this  day  of 
festival,  happily,  renunciation  was  not  exacted ;  other 
attractions  had  absorbed  the  Twins,  and  Christian's  rights 
were  unchallenged. 

Therefore,  it  was  that  the  youngest  Miss  Talbot-Lowry, 
perched  on  old  Harry's  broad  back,  and  looking  of  about 
the  same  size  in  relation  to  it  as  the  **  Wran  "  to  the  holly- 
bush,  was  now  blissfully  discussing  hound-puppies  with  her 
trusted  friend.  Father  David,  and  was  asking  nothing  more 
that  life  could  offer. 

Dr.  Mangan,  meantime,  w^aited,  with  a  permissive  smile, 
for  the  moment  to  make  his  "  little  girl  "  known  to  the  young 
ladies  from  Mount  Music,  and  to  their  cousin,  young  Larry 
Coppinger.  He  was  in  no  hurry,  and  he  had  often  had 
occasion  to  agree  with  Milton  (though  he  had  been  quite 
unaware  of  so  doing)  in  thinking  that  they  also  serve  who 
only  stand  and  wait. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

It  may  be  permissible  to  introduce  a  meet  of  hounds  at  or 
about  the  end  of  a  chapter,  but  I  feel  sure  that  the  ensuing 
run  must  be  given  elbow-room.  Alarming  to  many  though 
this  statement  may  be,  yet  it  may  be  said  that  its  foun Stations 
are  laid  in  truth  and  equity,  and  in  the  necessities  of  this 
history  may  be  found  the  justification  of  the  chapter. 

The  Quarry  Wood  had  not  failed.  Larry's  fox  had  been  in 
it.  To  Larry,  seated  on  his  stout,  bay  cob,  with  a  heart 
banging  against  his  ribs,  and  a  soul  absorbed  into  a  single 
supplication,  had  come,  suddenly  and  beautifully,  the  answer 
to  prater,  the  ineffable  spectacle  of  a  large  and  lovely  fox, 
sHding  quietly  away,  at  the  right  place,  at  the  right  moment. 
Life  could  offer  Larry  no  more  ;    not  then,  at  all  events. 

"  My  coverts — my  fox  !  " 

Not  many  boys  of  sixteen,  enthusiasts,  endowed  with  just 
that  touch  of  the  poetic  temperament  that  can  set  the  brain 
reehng,  could  know  a  more  wondrous  moment. 

Then  to  see  Cousin  Dick,  blazing  and  splendid,  charging 
out  of  the  wood,  "  like  the  man  on  the  red  horse  in 
Revelation, "  as  Christian  said  afterwards — (Christian  had 
sneai:ed  away  from  Chailes,  the  coachman,  and  had  followed 
Larry) — with  the  hounds  flashing  around  and  ahead  of  him, 
and  Cottingham's  raspin::,^  "  Forrad  !  Forrad  !  "  from  the 
wood  behind,  like  the  blast  of  a  bellows  upon  flames  ! 

Larry  had  been  past  speech  when  that  apocalyptic  vision 
had  materialised  in  response  to  his  halloa.  He  had  waved 
his  hat  and  cheered  the  hounds  to  the  line  of  the  fox,  but  it 
had  been  unnecessary  ;  they  had  not  had  an  instant's  un- 
certainty, and  had  taken  hold  on  their  own  account  with- 
out reference  to  anyone. 

That  the  hold  taken  by  the  hounds  was  a  firm  and  assured 

49 


50 


MOUNT   MUSIC 


one  was  due,  not  only  to  their  own  virtues,  but  also  to  the 
fact  t  at  where  the  fox  had  broken,  a  tract  of  turf  bog  met  the 
wood,  and  carried  a  scent  of  entire  efficiency.  What,  how- 
ever, it  was  incapable  of  carrying  were  the  horses.  The 
hounds,  uttering  their  ecstasy  in  that  gorgeous  chorus  of 
harmonious  discordance  called  Full  Cry,  sped  across  the  bog 
like  a  flock  of  seagulls;  but  for  the  riders,  a  narrow  track 
between  deep  ditches,  left  by  the  turf-cutters  for  their  carts, 
was  the  sole  hope,  and  a  siring  of  horses,  galloping  in  single 
file,  was  soon  following  hard  on  the  heels  of  the  Master. 
Foremost  of  them  all  were  Christian  and  Larry,  filled  with  an 
elation  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  convey.  The  hounds 
were  holding  steadily  right-handed  across  the  bog,  and  were 
ever  widening  the  distance  between  them  and  the  riders, 
but  it  was  enough  for  these  two  children  to  be  able  to  keep 
their  proud  place,  next  after  the  Master,  and  to  know  that  no 
one,  not  even  Cottingham,  could  deprive  them  of  it.  It 
may  gravely  be  questioned  if  Tommy,  the  stout  bay  cob, 
and  Harry,  the  residue  of  a  hunt  horse,  appreciated  a  position 
to  which  they  were  so  little  accustomed.  Harry,  whose 
heart,  indisputably  in  the  right  place,  was  possibly  the  only 
sound  item  in  his  outfit,  pounded  gallantly  on,  roaring  as 
he  went,  like  a  lion  seeking  after  his  prey  ;  but  Tommy 
whose  labours  were,  as  a  rule,  limited  to  mild  harness-work, 
was  kept  going  mainly  by  stress  of  circumstances,  in  which 
category  Larry's  spurs  took  a  prominent  part.  The  bog- 
trrck  at  length  became  merged  in  a  rushy  field,  and  then  indeed 
did  the  pent  waters  of  the  hunt  break  forth.  Major  Dick's 
tall  chestnut  had  gradually  increased  his  lead,  and  by  the 
time  the  track  was  clear  of  riders,  he  was  two  fields  ahead, 
with  Cottingham  not  far  behind,  and  a  few  indignant  young 
men  riding  like  maniacs  to  overtake  them.  To  have  been 
held  back  by  a  schoolboy  and  a  little  girl  is  an  indignity  not 
easily  to  be  borne.  The  Broadwater  Vale  field  was  a  hard- 
going  one,  including  a  strengthening  of  young  soldiers  from 
the  regiment  quartered  at  Riverstown,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  Tommy  and  Harry  were  beginning  to  find  themselves 
in  a  more  familiar  and  less  exigent  position.  Judith,  on 
the  grey  mare,  went  by  them  like  a  flash  ;  Doctor  Mangan 
overtook  them  heavily,  and  heavily  passed  them.  Father 
David,  riding  a  little  wide  of  the  crowd,  waved  a  friendly 


MOUNT    MUSIC  51 

hand  to  Christian,  as  the  black  mare,  composed  and  discreet, 
as  became  a  daughter  of  the  Church,  dwelt  for  an  instant 
on  the  top  of  a  wide  bank,  before  she  struck  off  into  the  next 
field.  Worst  indignity  of  all,  Charles,  the  coachman,  on  the 
elderly  carriage  horse,  drew  alongside,  and  presumed  to  offer 
directions  and  admonitions.  **  As  if,"  thought  Christian, 
as  she  drove  Harry  at  the  bank  in  the  wake  of  the  black  mare, 
*'  I  cared  a  pin  what  he  says  !  " 

Gone  for  poor  Charles  were  the  days  when  Miss  Christian 
had  revered  him  above  all  other  created  things  ;  days  such 
as  the  one  on  which,  after  a  ride  round  the  yard  on  an  un- 
harnessed carriage  horse.  Christian,  in  gratitude  too  great 
for  words,  had  attempted  to  kiss  him.  Charles  had  re- 
pelled the  embrace,  saying  tactfully  :  "  No  pleasures  in  Lent, 
Miss  !  "  and  Christian  had  accepted  the  excuse.  Then  Miss 
Christian  had  been  three  years  old,  now  she  was  thirteen, 
and  Charles  had,  in  the  interval,  married  a  cook,  and  lost  his 
figure,  and  with  it,  had  departed  his  nerve,  and  the  reverence 
of  Miss  Christian,  and  he  knew  it. 

Close  behind  Charles  came  Dr.  Mangan's  "  little  girl," 
who  had  been  confided  with  a  lubricating  half-crown,  to  his 
care.  Miss  Letitia  Mangan  was  far  from  considering  herself 
a  little  girl.  She  was  sixteen  and  a  half,  and  conceived  herself 
to  be  of  combatant  rank,  even  though  her  thick,  dark  hair 
banged  on  her  back  in  a  ponderous  pigtail,  and  her  education 
at  the  Cluhir  Convent  School  was  still  uncompleted.  The 
fat,  piebald  pony  that  she  was  riding  would  have  a  sore  back 
before  she  got  home.  Christian,  perched  wren-like  on  her 
ancient  steed  (but  a  wren  placed  with  mathematical  accuracy 
of  directness  with  relation  to  the  steed's  ears),  noted  with 
disfavour  the  crooked  seat,  the  heavy  hand  on  the  curb. 
Larry,  hot  and  pink,  with  hat  hanging  by  its  guard,  his  fair 
hair  looking  hke  storm-tossed  corn-stooks,  noted  nothing, 
being  wholly  engrossed  in  bitter  conflict  with  Tommy. 
The  art  of  keeping  a  good  start  with  hounds  is  not  given  to 
many,  and  least  of  all  to  the  young  and  inexperienced.  From 
having  been  first  of  the  first,  it  had  fallen  to  Larry  and 
Christian  to  find  themselves  last,  and  last  in  the  despised 
company  of  Charles  and  "  the  Mangan  girl." 

The  unexacting  position  of  being  at  the  heel  of  the  hunt 
may  have  a  charm  for  the  philosophic  or  unambitious,  but 


52  MOUNT   MUSIC 

so  black  a  continuation  of  so  great  a  start  was  a  trial  quite 
beyond  the  endurance  of  a  young  gentleman  possessed  of 
the  artistic  temperament.  And  then  the  abominable  Mangan 
girl  came  into  play,  and  joined  in  the  circling  performance 
at  the  big  bank.  Always,  when  Larry  felt  that  this  time  the 
cob  was  going  to  "  have  it,"  that  cow-like  red  and  white  beast 
would  jam  itself  in  the  way,  so  he  thought,  raging.  In  this 
matter  of  hunting.  Dr.  Mangan  had  not  been  well  advised 
in  his  scheme  for  his  little  girl's  social  advantage. 

In  the  meantime  the  hounds  had  run  their  fox  into  Drum- 
keen  Wood,  and  the  riders,  arriving  in  small  and  breathless 
companies,  thanked  God  for  a  check,  and  tightened  their 
girths  and  took  courage.  The  latter  would  undoubtedly 
be  needed  if  the  run  continued  ;  Drumkeen  Wood  was  hung 
like  a  cloak  upon  the  side  of  a  steep  hill,  and  was  the  invariable 
prelude  to  the  worst  going  within  the  bounds  of  the  hunt. 

"  If  he's  into  the  big  earth  here,  I'm  afraid  it's  good-bye 
to  him  !  "  said  Dr.  Mangan,  taking  courage  in  a  liquid  form. 
**  It  was  a  sweet  gallop  while  it  lasted  !  Sweet  and  short, 
like  this  toothful  of  cherry  brandy  I'm  after  drinking  !  " 

"  Ah,  that's  poor  stuff.  Doctor,"  said  Mr.  Hallinan,  pro- 
prietor of  Hallinan's  Hotel,  a  prosperous  hostelry,  much 
patronised  by  salmon-fishers.  "  Give  me  a  sup  of  good  old 
John  Jameson  in  its  purity  !  " 

"  Twas  for  Tishy  I  brought  this  out,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
apologetically  ;  **  but  I  lost  sight  of  her.  She's  back  some- 
where with  little  Christian  Lowry  and  young  Coppinger." 

"  What  sort  of  a  lad  is  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  HalHnan.  "  Is 
he  as  big  a  pup  as  them  young  Lowrys  ?  " 

**  Ah,  they're  not  so  bad  altogether,"  said  Dr.  Mangan, 
indulgently.  "  Young  sprigs  like  them  are  none  the  worse 
for  a  little  tashpy,  as  the  people  say  !  "  The  Doctor's  heavy 
voice  relaxed  a  little  over  the  word  tashpy  (which,  it  should 
perhaps  be  explained,  is  Irish,  and  implies  a  blend  of 
impudence  and  high  spirits).  He  was  quite  aware  that  his 
friend  Hallinan  and  he  regarded  the  Talbot-Lowrys  from  a 
different  standpoint. 

"  I  was  having  a  bit  of  lunch  there  the  other  day,"  he  went 
on,  "  and  I  thought  they  were  nice  boys  enough." 

**  I  hope  you  got  enough  to  eat  !  "  said  Mr.  Hallinan,  dis- 
agreeably ;     **  I'm  told  that  their  butcher's  sick  and  tired 


MOUNT    MUSIC  53 

trying  to  get  what  he's  owed,  out  of  them  !  There  should  be 
drink  enough,  anyway  !  I'm  just  after  sending  in  a  case  of 
whisky  there.     God  knows  when  I'll  be  ped  for  it  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  two  gentlemen,  whose  horses  were 
nibbling  the  grass  of  the  bank  that  surrounded  the  wood, 
were  shaken  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  white  nose  of 
the  Master's  chestnut  on  the  other  side  of  the  bank. 

"  I'd  be  obliged  if  there  was  less  noise  !  "  said  the  Master's 
voice,  with  threatening  in  it. 

Mr.  Hallinan's  jaw  dropped  unaffectedly. 

*'  Merciful  God  !  "  he  murmured  ;  "did  he  hear  me, 
d'ye  think  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no  fear,  man  !  "  whispered  the  Doctor,  encouragingly. 
"  And  if  he  did  itself,  maybe  you'd  get  your  cheque  a  bit 
quicker  !  " 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  a  whimpering  whistle  from  a 
hound,  invisible,  yet  near  at  hand,  sent  a  thrill  through  the 
waiting  riders.  There  followed  the  rustling  rush  of  hounds 
through  the  undergrowth,  as  they  gathered  to  enquire  into 
the  whimper.  Then  another  whimper,  merging  into  a 
squeal,  and  Cottingham's  voice  : 

"  Hark  to  Dulcet  !     Forrad  to  Dulcet  !  " 

"  Begad,  they  have  him  again,"  said  Dr.  Mangan,  without 
enthusiasm.  "  I  wonder  v»'here  is  Tishy  gone  to  ?  I  sup- 
pose they'll  run  these  blasted  hills  now " 

The  big  grey  horse,  and  his  seventeen  stone  rider,  moved 
off  in  the  opposite  direction  to  the  tread  of  the  hunt,  which  was 
slowly  and  steadily  pushing  upwards  through  the  wood. 
Dr.  Mangan  was  one  of  the  select  company  of  followers  of 
hounds  who  know  when  they  have  had  enough. 

A  narrow,  stony  passage,  more  resembling  a  drain  than  a 
lane,  ran  round  the  wood  ;  the  riders  hustled  along  it,  like 
a  train  in  a  cutting,  too  tightly  packed  for  the  most  vindictive 
kicker  to  injure  his  neighbour,  too  hampered  by  impeding 
rocks  to  make  more  speed  than  can  be  accomplished  by  a 
jog.  The  drain  ended  at  a  V-shaped  fissure  between  two 
slants  of  rock,  and,  by  the  time  the  last  horse  had  clattered 
and  scrambled  up  it,  the  hounds  were  away  again,  steering 
up,  across  heathery  fields,  enclosed  by  fences  and  stone 
walls  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  for  a  great  double-headed  hill 
on  the  8ky-line,  three  or  more  miles  away. 


54  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  Carrigaholt  as  usual  !  "  said  Major  Dick,  over  his 
shoulder,  to  the  Hon.  Sec,  young  Kirby  of  Castle  Ire.  **  If 
you  get  a  chance,  try  and  head  him  off  the  western  rocks — 
and  Bill  !  Tell  those  infernal  children  of  mine  they're  to 
keep  with  Charles  and  look  out  for  bogs  !  " 

His  conscience  as  a  parent  thus  appeased,  the  Master 
applied  himself  to  the  no  small  task  of  keeping  his  hounds  in 
sight,  and  of  evading  the  equal  difficulties  presented  by  rocks 
and  bog  holes.  The  offspring  in  question,  were  now,  with 
Lari-y,  in  comparative  and  undesired  safety  beneath  the 
fluttering  wing  of  Charles,  and  Bill  Kirby,  having  faithfully 
delivered  his  message,  found  himself  immediately  adopted 
as  an  alternative  protector,  and  repented  him  of  his  fidelity. 

The  hounds  stormed  on  through  the  hills,  running  hard 
across  the  frequent  boggy  tracts,  more  slowly,  and  with 
searchings,  over  the  intervening  humps  of  rock  and  furze. 
The  fox  was  making  a  well-known  point,  and  running  a  well- 
known  line,  but  the  fences  in  their  infinite  variety,  defied  the 
staHng  force  of  custom,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  going  were 
intensified  by  the  pace.  The  hounds  gained  at  length  the 
ridge  of  the  high  country,  and  as  they  flitted  along  the  sky- 
line, the  riders,  labouring  among  the  rocks,  skirting  the  bogs, 
pounding  at  the  best  pace  they  could  raise  over  the  intervals 
of  heather  and  grass,  felt  that  their  hold  on  the  h.nt  had 
become  distinctly  insecure. 

"  *  Christian  dost  thou  see  them  ?  '  "  quoted  Larry,  kicking 
his  heels  into  the  bay  cob's  well-covered  ribs  without  effect, 
**  for  I  don't  !  " 

**  They'll  check  at  Carrigaholt,"  called  back  Bill  Kirby  ; 
"  that'll  be  our  chance -'" 

They  were  far  up  on  the  slope  of  the  hills  now  ;  the  country 
swung  in  long,  dipping  lines,  down  to  the  Vale  of  the  Broad' 
water,  and  spread,  in  great  and  generous  curves,  away  to 
the  far  range  of  the  Mweelin  Mountains,  that  brooded,  in 
colour  a  deep  and  sullen  sapphire,  on  the  horizon.  The  town 
of  Cluhir,  a  little  puff  of  smoke,  cut  in  two  by  the  wide  river, 
lay  below.  The  spires  of  the  two  churches  rose  above  the 
smoke,  one  on  either  side  of  the  bridge  that  spanned  the 
river.  The  sound  of  bells,  faintly  rising  from  one  of  them 
summoned  the  faithful  to  the  mid-day  Mass  in  honour  of 
St.  Stephen. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  55 

Larry,  pushing  Tommy  along  at  a  dogged  canter,  lifted  his 
bowler  hat  as  he  heard  the  bells,  and  Christian  and  Judith 
looked  at  each  other.  The  tradition  of  the  Protestant, 
"  No  demonstrations  !  "  with  its  singular  suspicion  and  dis- 
trust of  manifestations  of  reverence  or  poetry,  had  been  early 
implanted  in  them,  and  Judith  murmured  to  Christian : 
**  How  on  earth  does  he  remember  ?  " 

"  I  know  I  couldn't,"  admitted  Christian  ;  yet  some  feel- 
ing that,  though  crushed,  had  survived  the  hea\y  feet  of  Lady 
Isabel's  trusted  manuals,  stirred  in  her  in  accord  with  the 
faint  clash  of  the  chapel  bells,  making  her  envy  Larry  his 
accredited  salutation,  making  her  feel  something  of  the  beauty, 
if  not  of  holiness,  of,  at  least,  the  recognition  that  there  w^ere 
holy  things  in  the  world. 

On  the  nearer  head  of  Carrigaholt  the  check,  predicted  by 
Bill  Kirby,  came.  A  narrow  and  level  plateau  ran  between 
the  twin  crests  ;  above  it  on  both  sides,  rose  successive 
shelves  of  cliff,  with  swathes  of  russet  bracken  muffling 
their  fierce  outline.  Flung  about  on  the  shelves,  looking  like 
tumbled  piles  of  giant  books  in  a  neglected  library,  were 
immense  rectangular  rocks  ;  one  would  say  that  only  the  grey 
and  knotted  cords  of  the  ivy  that  had  crept  over  them,  held 
them  in  their  place  upon  those  rugged  shelves.  At  one  end 
of  the  level  place  the  ground  fell  steeply  to  a  wild  stream, 
the  Feorish,  from  whose  farther  bank  another  hill,  but  little 
less  formidable  than  Carrigaholt,  rose  like  an  enemy  tower, 
threatening  its  defences.  The  hounds  swarmed  like  bees 
among  the  rocks,  jumping  or  falling  from  shelf  to  shelf, 
burrowing  and  thrusting  through  the  bracken,  their  heads 
appearing  suddenly  in  quite  improbable  places,  with  glowing 
eyes  and  glistening  pink  tongues,  demanding  from  their 
huntsman  the  information  that  no  one  but  themselves  could 
give. 

It  was  a  place  in  which  not  one,  but  a  hundred  places  of 
safety  presented  themselves  to  a  fox,  but  this  good  fox  had 
despised  them  all,  and,  of  all  the  hounds,  it  was  Amazon, 
Christian's  beloved  foundling,  who  was  first  to  recognise  the 
fact.  Far  down,  from  the  bottom  of  the  gorge,  she  called 
to  her  fellow^s,  and  it  was  Christian,  of  all  the  riders,  who 
first  heard  her  voice.  If  Larry  had  had  his  great  moment,, 
when  the  fox  broke,   it   was   Christian's  turn  now,   when 


56  MOUNT   MUSIC 

Amazon  fresh-found  him.  I  suppose  there  are  not  very 
many  people  who,  as  well  as  being  perfectly  happy,  are 
conscious  of  their  perfect  happiness.  This  little  girl  was  of 
that  privileged  company,  as,  in  answer  to  her  call,  her  father 
threw  the  pack  over  the  edge  of  the  plateau  and  cheered  them 
to  Amazon. 

In  two  minutes,  a  frenzied  chorus  was  filling  the  narrow 
gorge,  the  cry  of  the  hounds,  the  hurrying  reiterated  notes 
of  the  horn,  the  shouts  of  the  Whips  rating  on  stragglers, 
echoing  and  re-echoing  from  cliff  to  cliff.  Before  the  riders 
had  committed  themselves  to  the  descent,  the  leading  hounds 
were  straining  up  the  opposite  cliff  face  ;  sUthering,  and 
slipping,  the  horses  were  hunied  down  a  track  that  goats 
had  made  between  rocks  and  bracken,  and,  at  the  base, 
found  themselves  confronted  with  the  problem  of  the  river. 
The  River  Styx  could  hardly  look  less  attractive  than  did  the 
Feorish,  as  it  swirled,  swollen  and  foaming,  among  its  rocks, 
its  dark  torrent  plunging  from  steep  to  &teep  in  roaring 
waterfalls.  Some  country  men,  high  on  the  cliffs,  howled 
directions,  and  the  Master,  his  eye  on  his  hounds  struggling 
with  the  fierce  stream,  went  on  down  the  gorge  until  the  howls 
changed  their  metre,  thus  indicating  to  the  experienced  that 
the  moment  had  come  to  cross  the  river.  The  ford,  such  as 
it  was,  permitted  some  half  dozen  of  the  horses  to  cross  it, 
splashing  and  floundering,  wobbling  perilously  from  the  round 
and  slimy  back  of  one  sunken  rock  to  another. 

Judith  and  the  grey  mare,  following  close  on  Bill  Kirby^s 
heels,  got  over  neatly,  ar^  were  away  after  him  over  the  top 
of  the  hill  before  Christian's  turn  came.  The  ancient  and 
skilled  Harry  addressed  himself  to  the  task  with  elderly 
caution,  feeling  his  way  with  suspicion,  creeping  across 
with  slow-poised  feet,  and  was  so  deliberate  over  the  effort, 
that  Larry's  cob,  following  too  close  on  him,  was  checked  at  a 
critical  moment.  He  struggled,  sHpped,  recovered,  found 
himself  still  hindered  by  Harry,  and,  with  a  final  stagger, 
lost  footing  altogether,  and  rolled  over. 

Cottingham,  subsequently  recounting  the  incident,  declared 
that  he  thought,  he  did,  that  the  young  genel'm  was  done  for  ; 
but  "  that  little  Miss  Christeen — she's  a  nummer  she  is  ! — 
she  off'n  'er  'oss  before  I  fair  sees  what's  'appened,  and  she 
ketches  the  young  chap  by  the  'ed,  and  pulls   'im  clear  ! 


MOUNT    MUSIC  57 

Her  did  indeed  !     A  lilF  gurl  like  what  she  is  too  !     Her's 
wuth  more  than  ten  big  men  !  '* 

What  the  singular  encomium,  *'  a  nummer"  might  mean 
was  a  fact  known  only  to  Cottingham,  but  it  was  incon- 
trovertibly  Christian's  eel-like  swiftness  of  action  that  had 
saved  Larry  from  a  worse  accident.  Small  and  slender 
though  she  was,  she  was  wiry,  and  she  had  the  gift  of  being 
able  instantly  to  concentrate  every  force  cf  mind  and  body 
upon  a  desired  point — a  rare  gift  and  a  precious  one. 

But  when  she  and  Larry,  dripping  and  hatless,  were  hauled 
into  safety  by  other  helpers,  less  swift  but  more  powerful, 
it  was  found  that  Larry  had  not  come  out  of  the  Feorish 
unscathed.  His  left  hand  was  hanging,  helpless,  with  a 
broken  wrist. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  hunt  swept  on  after  the  manner  of  hunts,  full  of 
sympathy,  having,  as  to  one  man,  contributed  a  silver  cigarette 
case,  with  which  another,  a  resourceful  medical  student, 
had  imprv  vised  a  splint;  but  feeling,  not  without  rehef, 
that  they  could  do  nothing  more ;  feeling  also,  with 
depression,  that  the  Lord  only  knew  where  the  devils  had  run 
to  by  this  time,  but  that  that  couldn't  be  helped  ;  with  which 
philosophic  reflection  and  manv  valedictory  shouts  of  com- 
miseration, the  last  of  them  had  vanished  over  the  hill. 

The  unfortunate  Charles  restored  to  guardianship,  now 
found  himself  with  Miss  Judith,  lost;  Miss  Christian  soaked  to 
the  skin,  eight  miles  or  more  from  her  home  ;  Master  Larry 
ditto,  in  much  pain,  no  nearer  to  his,  and  unable  to  mount  his 
horse,  which  latter  would  have  to  be  led  over  a  succession  of 
fences  to  the  nearest  road  ;  (and  no  matter  with  what  dis- 
tinction an  elderly  coachman  can  drive  a  pair  of  horses  on 
a  road,  it  is  very  far  fiom  being  the  same  thing  to  get  a  pair 
of  horses  across  a  country).  It  was,  therefore,  a  very  gloomy 
party  that  set  face  for  the  nearest  highway.  The  intricacies 
of  procedure  at  each  jump  need  not  here  be  dealt  with,  but 
it  may  b^  said  that  a  more  thankful  man  than  Charles,  when  he 
again  f.lt  the  good  macadam  under  his  feet,  is  not  often  met 
with.  He  would  at  that  moment  have  said  that  he  could  not 
have  felt  an  intenser  gratitude  than  suffused  him  as  he  saw 
his  convoy  safe  off  the  hills ;  but  there  he  would  have  over- 
stated the  case,  since,  scarcely  five  minutes  after  the  road 
had  been  reached,  an  even  more  supreme  thankfulness  was 
his.  Coming  rapidly  towards  him,  he  beheld  Dr.  Mangan's 
outside  car,  and  upon  it  was  the  large  person  of  Dr.  Mangan 
himself. 

"  W.ll,"  said  Charles  that  evening,  to  Mr.  Evans,  "  if  it 

58 


MOUNT   MUSIC  59 

was  the  Angel  Gabriel  I  seen  f  ying  down  to  m*",  I  woul  'n^t 
be  as  glad  as  what  I  was  when  I  seen  the  Big  Doctor  on  the 
side-car  !  " 

And  Mr.  Evans  had  caustically  rejoined  :  "  It'll  be  the 
funny  day  when  you'll  see  wings  on  him  !  "  meaning  Dr. 
Mangan,  of  whom  he  had  a  low  opinion. 

Wings  or  no  wings,  no  angel  of  mercy  and  succour  was 
ever  more  welcome  or  more  needed  than  was  the  Big 
Doctor  at  this  moment.  Larry,  very  white,  shivcxin :  with 
pain  and  cold,  was  lifted  on  to  the  car  ;  Christian  was  told  to 
gallop  away  home  as  fast  as  she  could,  and  Charles  was 
directed  to  let  Miss  Coppinger  know  that  her  nephew  would 
be  put  up  for  the  night  at  the  Doctor's  own  house  at  Cluhir. 

*'  You  can  say  to  her  that  I  met  the  Hunt,  and  one  of  them 
told  me  what  hap::ened,"  said  the  Big  Doctor,  "  and  I  knew 
then  what  to  do." 

It  might,  indeed,  habitually  be  said  of  Dr.  Mangan  that  he 
knew  very  well  what  to  do.  There  were,  indeed,  but  two 
occasions  on  record  when  it  might  have  seemed  that  he  had 
not  so  known.  The  first  of  these  was  when  he  had  abandoned 
an  improving  practice  in  Dublin  to  work  as  his  father's 
partner  in  his  native  Cluhir,  the  second,  when,  preliminary 
to  that  return,  he  had  married  a  lady,  alleged,  by  inventive 
and  disagreeable  people,  to  have  been  his  cook.  The  dis- 
agreeable peopb  had  also  said  di  agreeable  things  as  to  the 
natur  of  the  stress  that  had  prompted  the  marriage.  But 
it  was  now  twenty  years  since  the  Mangans  had  been 
establi  hed  a  Number  Six,  The  Mall,  Cluhi"  ;  the  Doctor 
had  come  in  for  his  father's  money  as  w.U  as  his  practice, 
and  was  respected  as  "  a  warm  man  "  ;  the  disagree  ble 
ones  had  g  own  old,  and  people  who  are  both  old  and  dis- 
agreeable cannot  expect  to  command  a  larje  audience.  Mrs. 
Mangin,  on  the  contrary,  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other, 
bein.T,  at  this  time,  but  little  over  forty,  and  as  kindly,  lazy, 
and  h  ndsome  a  creature  as  ever  lived  down  spi.eful  gossip 
by  good-nature.  When  *'  The  Dawkthor  "  (as  she  called 
him,  with  a  drowsy  drag  on  the  first  syllable)  had  galloped 
in  at  one  o'cloc  to  command  Barty's  room  to  be  got  ready 
at  one  ?,  Mrs.  M  ngan  was  still  in  what  she  called  "  i- habl^" 
and  was  s  raying  between  her  bedroom  and  the  kitchen, 
pleasurably  involved  in  the  cares  of  both. 


6o  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  They  say  young  Coppinger  fell  in  the  river,  and  he's 
broken  his  wrist,"  said  the  Doctor  rapidly,  stamping  into 
his  wife's  room,  bringing  the  wind  of  the  hills  with  him. 
'*  I'll  bring  h-m  here  as  soon  as  I  can  get  hold  of  him." 

"  The  creature  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Mm^an,  sympathetically. 

"  Well,  don't  be  waiting  to  pity  him  now  !  "  said  her  hus- 
band, stuffing  bandages  into  his  pocket,  '*  but  hu  ry  and  put 
hot  J3rs  into  th^  bed — and  clean  sheets.  Don't  forget  now, 
Annie  !  " 

He  lumbered  in  his  long  boots  and  spurs,  down  to  the 
surgery,  still  issuing  directions. 

**  Tishy'U  be  back  directly — she'll  give  you  a  hand — and 
Annie  !  tell  Hannah  to  have  some  hot  soup  ready.  Now, 
hurry,  for  God's  sake  !  " 

The  front  door  into  the  Mall,  Cluhir's  most  fashionable 
quarter,  bang :d. 

"  Well,  well  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  still  sympathetic,  while 
she  removed  the  curling-pins  from  her  bison  fringe  ;  "  wasn't 
it  the  will  of  God  that  I  had  a  headache  this  morning  and 
couldn't  go  to  Mass  !  I'll  have  something  to  say  to  Father 
Greer  now  if  he  draws  it  up  to  me  that  I  was  backward  in 
my  duty  !  " 

M  ch  fortified  by  this  reflection,  ivlrs.  Man'i^an  hurriedly 
proceeded  with  her  toilette,  squallin  z  meanwhile  to  her  hench- 
woman  in  the  kitchen  a  summary  of  the  Doctor's  orders. 
She  had  no  more  than  achieved  what  she  called  her  "  Sunday 
dress,"  a  complimentary  effort  to  be  equally  divided  between 
Saint  Stephen  and  young  Mr.  Coppinger,  when  the  back-door 
into  the  yard  from  the  house  slammed,  and  her  daughter's 
voice  announced  her  return. 

*'  Come  up,  Tishy,  till  I  talk  to  you  !  "  shouted  Mrs. 
Mangan,  slinging  a  long  gold  watch-chain  over  her  head 
and  festooning  it  upon  her  ample  bosom  :  *'  Did  you  meet 
Pappy  ?  "  she  continued,  as  her  daughter's  steps  drew  near. 

'*  I  did  to  be  sure,"  returned  Miss  Letitia,  coming  into  her 
mother's  room  and  flinging  herself  into  an  armchair,  '*  when 
I  was  crossing  the  bridge  it  was.  He  roared  to  me  to  hurry 
you  and  Hannah.  Holy  Mary  Joseph  !  How  stiff  I  am  ! 
That  old  horn  on  the  saddle  has  the  right  leg  cut  off  me  !  " 

**  Weil,  never  mind  your  legs  now,"  replied  Mrs.  Mangan, 
peremptorily,  "  what  I  want  to  know  is  what  sort  is  this 


MOUNT    MUSIC  6i 

young  man  that  Pappy's  bringing  in  on  top  of  us  ?     In  God's 
name,  why  couldn't  he  be  let  go  home  to  his  own  ?  " 

'*  *  Young  man  '  is  it  !"  retorted  Tishy  ;  "  he's  nothing 
but  a  boy  at  school,  and  a  cross  boy  too  !  Such  beating  of 
his  pony  as  he  had  when  he  wouldn't  jump  for  him  !  Didn't 
I  try  and  make  poor  Zoe  go  before  him,  and  th'  eye  he  cast 
at  her  !     I  thought  he'd  beat  me,  too  !  " 

"  Oh,  and  is  a  boy  all  he  is  then  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  with 
relief  in  her  voice  :  *'  you'd  think  by  the  work  your  father 
had  'twas  the  Lord  Leftenant  was  in  it  !  Run  away  now, 
Tishy,  like  a  good  girl,  and  get  those  clothes  off  you,  and  help 
Hannah  with  Barty's  room.  Boy  or  man  or  whatever  he  is, 
he  must  have  a  bed  unJer  him  !  " 

It  was  a  very  deplorable  boy  who  presently  arrived  at  No. 
6,  The  Mall,  Ciuhir,  and  was  practically  lifted  off  the  car  by 
the  Big  Doctor.  Francis  Al lysius  Mangan  had  many  aspects 
of  character  of  an  undesirable  kind,  but  they  were  linked 
with  one  virtue,  the  Irish  gift,  of  a  good-natured  heart. 
With  his  enormous  thick  hands,  that  made  Larry  think  of 
a  tiger's  paws,  he  undressed  the  boy  as  cleverly  and  gently 
as  he  had  set  the  b  oken  bones  of  his  wrist.  Mrs.  Mangan 
and  Hannah  had  not  failed  ;  the  soup  and  the  jars  were, 
as  the  latter  authority  had  pronounced,  "  as  hot  as  love  " 
simil  rly  impassioned  was  the  ardour  of  the  whisky-punch, 
with  which  the  pr  ce  dings  had  opened.  Combined  with  a 
subsequent  sleeping  draught,  it  conferred  the  boon  of  sleep, 
and  for  some  hours,  at  all  events,  Larry  fogot  his  recently- 
acquired  knowledge  of  what  pain  was.  But  not  for  many 
hours.  In  the  long  darkness  (  f  the  winter  morning  he  lay 
with  a  fast  mounting  temperature,  while  he  made  the  dis- 
covery, common  to  all  in  his  case,  that  upon  the  particular 
bone  that  has  been  broken,  the  entire  existence  pivots.  And, 
in  acidition  to  the  broken  bone,  by  the  time  that  Miss  Frederica 
had  driven  in  from  Copping^r's  Court,  there  was  bi-t  little 
doubt  that  what  Dr.  Mangan  called,  Hghtly,  ''  a  touch  of 
pneumonia,"  would  keep  young  Mr.  Coppinger  in  Barty's 
room  for  a  time  unspecified. 

Miss  Frederica  drove  home  acrain  in  a  seriously  perturbed 
frame  of  mind,  and  with  indignation  against  the  decrees  of 
Providence  hot  within  her. 

*'  I  wired  for  a  nurse  for  him  !  "  she  said  to  Lady  Isabel, 


62  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  I  could  not  plant  myself  upon  them  !  It's  all  most 
uncomfortable  and  unavoidable.  Of  course  they've  been 
extremely  kind " 

At  the  back  of  Miss  Coppinger's  mind  was  the  wish,  that 
she  trampled  on  whenever  it  stirred,  that  the  Mangans  had 
been  less  nexceptionally  kind  and  Good  Samaritan-like. 
"  Such  an  obligation  !  "  she  groaned  ;  "  they've  turned 
their  own  son  out  of  the  house  to  make  room  for  Larry  ! 
But  oh,  my  dear  Isabel,  if  you  could  imagine  what  the  house 
is  like  !  The  untidiness  !  The  dirt  !  Of  course  they're 
unspeakably  kind,  and  Dr.  Mangan  is  certainly  very  clever, 
and  has  managed  Larry  wonderfully,"  went  on  Frederica, 
repenting  her  of  her  evil  speaking,  "  and  I  must  say  I  can't 

help  hking  Mrs.  Mangan,  but  the  girl !  "     Miss  Cop- 

pinger  shut  her  mouth  so  tightly  that  her  lips  became  thin, 
white  lines.  "  Keep  the  door  of  your  lips  "  was  a  text  which 
she  had  in  her  youth  illuminated  for  herself.  She  often  found 
that  nothing  save  a  sudden  and  violent  slam  would  keep 
that  door  shut,  and,  to  do  her  justice,  the  slams,  when  the 
conversation  turned  on  the  Mangan  household,  were  both 
frequent  and  violent. 

This  was  later,  when  Larry  was  getting  better,  and  when  his 
aunt  had  be  un  to  find  the  daily  drive  to  Cluhir  something  of 
a  strain.  It  was  not  until  he  was  practically  convalescent 
that  he  was  permitted  to  receive  other  visitors.  Even  the 
daughter  of  the  house,  and  that  unknown  son,  into  whose 
bedroom  he  had  been  thrust,  were,  for  him,  beneath  the 
surface,  and  their  presence  only  inferential.  Barty  was 
domiciled  at  a  friend's,  and  Miss  Tishy  held  aloof,  the 
hushed  voices,  and  general  restraint  imposed  by  illness, 
being  not  at  all  to  her  taste.  Lady  Isabel  came  once,  with 
his  aunt,  and  Christian  crept  shyly  in  behind  them.  Christian 
was  wont  to  be  silent  in  the  presene  of  her  elders.  That 
great  and  admirable  maxim,  once  widely  instilled  into  the 
young,  whose  purport  is  that  children  should  seldom  be  seen 
and  never  heard,  had  ear  y  been  accepted  by  Chri  tian, 
without  resentment,  even,  as  she  grew  older,  with  g  atitude. 
Having  diffidently  taken  Larry's  listless  and  pallid  paw,  she 
had  s  ipped  into  the  background,  and  waited  silently,  while 
her  eager  brain  absorbed  and  stored  every  detail  for  future 
medication.     Long  after  Larry  had  lightly  forgotten  all  sa.ve 


MOUNT   MUSIC  63 

the  large  facts  of  his  illness  and  incarceration,  Christian 
could  describe  the  Pope,  whose  highly-colou  ed  presentment 
beatified  (rather  than  beautified)  the  wall  over  Larry's  bed 
and  could  imitate,  with  the  accuracy  of  a  phonograph,  the 
voice  of  Mrs.  xMang  :n,  as  she  issued  her  opinions  on  the  '  tate 
of  the  weather  to  her  distinguished  visitors. 


CHAPTER   X 

The  *'  touch  of  pneumonia,"  prophesied  by  Dr.  Mangan, 
had  proved  to  be  a  sufficiently  emphatic  one.  Larry's  recovery 
was  slow,  and  during  his  languid  convalescence,  he  found 
himself  becoming  sincerely  attached  to  the  Big  Doctor  and 
Mrs.  Mangan,  and  their  high  place  in  his  affections  was  shared 
by  the  nurse  provided  by  Miss  Coppinger.  The  bond  of  a 
common  faith  was  one  that,  at  this  stage  of  his  development, 
had  but  little  appeal  for  Larry,  but  he  was,  at  all  events, 
spared  any  possibility  of  suffering  from  the  feelings  of  sub- 
friction,  if  not  of  antagonism,  that  inevitably  stirred  in  his 
aunt's  breast,  if  she  found  herself  brought  into  relation  closer 
than  that  of  employer  and  employed  with  those  of  the  older 
creed. 

His  sense  of  beauty,  now  beginning  to  acquire  conscious- 
ness, and  sorely  afflicted  by  the  decorative  scheme  that  had 
been  adopted  in  Barty's  bedroom,  found  solace  in  the  faces 
of  these  two  women.  Even  the  lazy  consideration  of  the 
contrast  between  their  types,  was  a  comfort  to  Larry,  and  dis- 
tracted his  mind  from  the  wall-paper  (which  suggested  the 
contents  of  Dr.  Mangan's  surgery,  rhubarb,  and  mustard- 
leaves  predominating),  and  from  Barty's  taste  in  art,  which  in 
its  sacred  and  profane  aspects  was  alike  deplorable. 

Nurse  Brennan,  slight  and  fair,  with  the  clearest  of  blue 
eyes,  and  a  Dresden  china  complexion — Larry  was  already 
artist  enough  to  study  and  adore  the  shadow  of  her  white 
coif,  with  its  subtle,  reflected  Hghts,  on  her  pink,  rose-leaf 
cheek — and  Mrs.  Mangan,  just  a  little  over-blown,  but 
heavily,  darkly  handsome,  with  deep-lidded  shadowy  eyes, 
and — as  Master  Coppinger  pleased  himself  by  discovering — 
a  slight  suggestion  of  a  luxurious  Chesterfield  sofa,  upholstered 
in  rich  cream  velvet.    When  he  was  getting  better,  and  the 

64 


MOUNT   MUSIC  65 

rigours  of  the  sick  room  were  relaxing,  these  two  provided 
him  with  interest  and  entertainment  of  which  they  were 
deHghtfully  unaware. 

*'  Well,  and  what  will  I  give  him  for  his  dinner  to-day, 
Norrse  ?  "  — (impossible  to  persuade  the  English  alphabet 
to  disclose  Mrs.  Mangan's  pronunciation  of  this  word) — 
his  hostess  would  say,  drifting  largely  into  Larry's  room, 
and  seating  herself  on  the  side  of  his  bed. 

"  Don't  be  making  an  invalid  of  him  at  all,  Mrs.  Mangan  !  " 
Nurse  Brennan  would  rejoin  briskly  ;  "I'm  just  telling  him 
I'd  be  sorry  to  get  a  thump  from  that  old  wrist  of  his,  he  and 
the  Doctor  think  so  much  about  !  And  he  hasn't  as  much  as 
a  point  of  temperature  those  three  days  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  say.  Nurse  !  "  Larry  would  protest,  **  then  why 
won't  you  let  me  get  up  ?  " 

*'  Be  quite  now  " — (in  Ireland  the  "  e  "  in  *'  quiet  "  is 
not  infrequently  thus  transposed) — "  and  don't  be  bothering 
me,  like  a  good  child  !  "  Nurse  would  reply,  with  a  sidelong 
flash  of  her  charming  eyes,  a  recognition  of  Larry's  age  and 
sex  that  atoned  for  the  opprobrious  epithet. 

"  Would  he  like  a  nice  bit  of  fish  now  ?  I'm  going  down 
the  town,  and  I  might  meet  one  of  the  women  in  from  Broad- 
haven."     Thus  Mrs.  Mangan,  coaxingly. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Mangan,  please  don't  bother  !  "  says  Larry. 

"  Ah,  no  bother  at  all  !  Sure  I  was  going  down  anyway  t© 
the  chapel  to  get  a  sup  of  holy  water.  I  declare  the  house  is 
bone  dry  !     Not  a  drop  in  it  !  " 

After  dreary  winter  mornings  spent  in  reading,  by  the  light 
of  a  mis-placed  window,  or  age-long  afternoons,  drowsed 
through  in  that  torpor,  mental  as  well  as  physical,  that  over- 
whelms the  victim  of  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  bed,  Larry  used 
to  find  himself  looking  forward  to  the  conversations  between 
Nurse  Brennan  and  Mrs.  Mangan  that  arose  at  tea-time,  and 
followed,  stimulated  by  the  early  darkness  of  January,  in  the 
firelight ;  the  southern  voices  rising  and  falHng  like  the 
flickering  flames,  becoming  soon  self-engrossed,  and  forget- 
ful of  the  silent  listener  in  the  bed.  Sometimes  sleep  would 
lap  him  in  slow,  stealthy  peace,  and  the  voices  would  die 
away,  or  come  intermittently,  as  the  sound  of  a  band  marching 
through  a  town  fades  and  recurs  at  the  turn  of  a  street. 
But  without  being  aware  of  it,  he  was  absorbing  knowledge, 


66  MOUNT   MUSIC 

learning  a  new  point  of  view,  breathing  a  new  atmosphere 
that  was  to  influence  him  more  deeply  than  he  could  have  any 
conception  was  possible. 

One  evening  the  talk  fell  on  the  congenial  topic  of  illness, 
doctors  and  patients,  nurses  and  nuns,  all  spinning  in 
the  many-coloured  whirlpool  of  talk,  now  one  and  now  another 
cresting  the  changing  wave.  The  fact  that  Larry  was  of 
their  own  religion,  counterbalanced  his  belonging  to  an  alien 
class,  and  if  their  consciences  sometimes  hinted  at  a  lack  of 
discretion,  they  quieted  them  with  the  assurance  that  "  the 
poor  child  was  asleep  !  " 

"  Ah,  the  nuns  are  wonderful  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan, 
languishingly.  "  Look  how  lovely  they  have  the  Workhouse 
Infirmary  !  I  was  taking  some  flowers  to  Reverend  Mother, 
and  she  was  telling  me  what  a  beautiful  death  old  Catherine 
Macsweeny  made.  Reverend  Mother  rained  tears  when  she 
told  me." 

Nurse  Brennan  sniffed. 

"  Reverend  Mother's  a  sweet  woman,  and  the  nuns  are 
very  attentive  when  a  person'd  be  dying,  but  indeed  Mrs. 
Mangan,  if  you  ask  me,  I'd  say  '  twas  the  only  time  they 
were  much  use  to  their  patients  !  Up  at  that  infirmary  what 
have  patients  at  night  to  look  after  them  only  an  old  inmate, 
and  she  '  wanting  '  maybe  !  " 

Larry  began  to  giggle,  and  was  moved  to  try  his  wit. 

"  Nurse  !  What's  the  difference  between  a  stale  mate  and 
an  old  inmate  ?     And  what  does  it  want  ?  " 

"  It  wants  the  very  same  as  yourself — brains  !  *'  returned 
Nurse,  swiftly.  "  Now  may  be  !  "  She  wagged  her  head  at 
him  triumphantly,  turning  aside  to  hide  the  smile  of  victory, 
and  Larry  thought  how  lovely  was  her  profile,  as  the  firelight 
etched  it  in  incandescent  lines  on  the  smoky  background. 

"  Well,  indeed,  the  Poor  have  a  deal  to  put  up  with  !  '* 
said  Mrs.  Mangan,  lazily,  leaning  back  in  her  basket-chair, 
with  her  big  grey  cat  purring  like  an  aeroplane  engine  on  her 
knee.  "  The  Doctor  says  no  one  but  himself  knows  the  way 
he's  dragged  all  over  the  country,  patching  up  after  some  of 
them  young  fellows  that  get  dispensaries  before  they're  fit 
to  doctor  the  cat  !  " 

The  reformer,  that  underlay  the  artist  in  Larry,  awoke. 

*'  But,  Mrs,  Mangan,"  he  said,  hotly,  sitting  up  in  bed, 


MOUNT    MUSIC  67 

and  glaring  into  the  gloom  at  Mrs.  Mangan's  half-seen  face, 
**  why  do  they  give  dispensaries  to  chaps  that  can't  doctor  a 
cat  ?  " 

'*  Because  their  fathers  can  spend  four  or  five  hundred 
pounds  to  buy  votes  ! "  returned  Mrs.  Mangan,  laughing  at 
him.  "  Is  that  news  to  you  ?  Lie  down  child,  and  don't 
be  looking  at  me  like  that  !     /  haven't  a  vote  to  sell  !  " 

Larry  subsided  with  vague  splutterings.  Nurse  came  to 
his  bedside  and  smoothed  the  clothes. 

"  Listen  to  me  now,"  she  said  impressively,  *'  and  Pll 
tell  you  something  to  make  you  angry,  if  you  like  !  " 

She  leaned  against  the  foot  of  the  bed,  with  her  hands  in 
the  pockets  of  her  apron,  looking  down  at  him.  "  I  was  in 
charge  of  th'  infirmary  at  Mellifont  one  time,  and  late  one 
evening  a  young  farm-boy  was  brought  in  to  me  with  a  dis- 
located foot  and  a  '  Pott's  Fracture  ' " 

"  In  the  name  o'  God,  what's  that  ?  "  enquired  Mrs. 
Mangan. 

*'  Fracture  of  the  fibula,  but  the  case  I'm  speaking  of  had 
the  two  bones  broken  at  the  ankle,"  explained  Nurse  Brennan, 
in  her  most  professional  manner  ;  "  sure  I  thought  anyone'd 
know  that  !  And  I  can  tell  you,"  she  leaned  towards  Larry, 
striking  the  palm  of  her  left  hand  with  her  little  clenched 
right  fist,  as  if  to  hammer  the  words  into  him,  "  I  can  assure 
you,  that  as  bad  as  you  thought  you  were,  you  don't  know 
what  pain  is  beside  what  that  boy  suffered  !  Well,  I  sent 
for  the  doctor — a  young  brat  of  a  fella  that  hadn't  but  just 
left  college.     '  He'll  want  an  anaesthetic,'  says  he,  '  I'll  send 

down  for  Doctor  '  (I'll  not  tell  you  his  name — Smith, 

I'll  call  him  !)  '  Do  you  give  him  some  brandy,  nurse,* 
says  he,  '  Dr.  Smith'U  be  here  soon.'  Sure  enough  he  was, 
and  glad  I  was  to  see  him,  for  the  patient  was  suffering  greatly, 
and  the  leg  swelling  every  min^-ute.  It  was  a  long  ward  he 
was  in,  and  no  one  at  all  in  it  but  himself.  At  the  far  end  there 
was  a  table  and  a  lamp,  and  down  at  the  table  me  gentlemen 
sat,  and  commenced  to  talk." 

Nurse  Brennan  paused,  and  Mrs.  Mangan  gave  the  fire 
a  well-directed  poke,  that  set  the  flames  branching  upwards. 
The  tale  was  resumed,  in  those  cool  and  equable  tones  that 
express  a  more  perfected  indignation  than  any  heat  or  haste 
could  convey. 


68  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  Well,  that  was  nine  o'clock,  and  they  talked  there  for 
two  hours,  and  I  giving  the  patient  brandy,  and  expecting 
every  minyute  he'd  collapse.  And  what  do  you  suppose  they 
were  talking  about  ?  Fighting  they  were  !  Disputing  which 
of  them  would  perform  the  operation,  and  which  would 
administer  the  chloroform  !  " 

Mrs.  Mangan  laughed  Hghtly,  and  said  :  "  I  wouldn't  at 
all  doubt  it !  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  exclaimed  Larry. 

"  Not  a  bit  impossible  !  "  said  Nurse  Brennan,  *'  and  how 
d'ye  think  they  settled  it  in  the  end  ?  They  arranged  one  of 
them  would  begin  th'  operation  and  go  on  for  five  minutes, 
and  then  he  should  stop  and  give  the  anaesthetic,  and  the  other 
would  go  on  with  the  leg  !  Oh,  it's  the  case,  I  assure  you  ! 
It  was  twelve  o'clock  at  night  before  they  were  done  !  " 

She  paused,  laughing  a  little  at  the  hot  questions  with  which 
Larry  assailed  her,  but  he  could  see  the  unshed  tears  gleaming 
in  her  eyes.  "  I  was  summoned  to  a  private  case  next  day  ; 
I  don't  know  what  happened  to  the  unfortunate  poor  creature 
of  a  patient." 

"  A  stiff  leg  he  has,  I'll  be  bound  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan. 

Larry  lay  silent.  He  saw  it  all.  The  long,  dark  ward,  the 
white  angel  figure  (he  thought,  romantically)  bending  over 
the  tortured  creature  on  the  bed,  and,  far  away,  the  pool  of 
yellow  light  and  in  it  those  two — he  sought  in  vain  for  adjec- 
tives to  express  what  he  thought  of  Dr.  I'11-not-tell-you-his- 
name,  and  his  young  colleague. 


CHAPTER   XI 

In  the  years  that  followed,  "  Larry's  cads  '*  came  to  be,  for 
the  young  Talbot-Lowrys,  a  convenient  designation  for  the 
friends  into  whose  bosom  Providence  had  seen  fit  to  fling 
their  cousin.  But  Larry  never  either  approved  or  accepted 
it.  He  was  entirely  pleased  with  his  new  friends,  and 
especially  with  that  son  of  the  house  whose  position  he  had 
usurped,  Mr.  Bartholomew  Mangan. 

Barty  was  a  lengthy,  languid,  gentle  youth,  of  nearly 
nineteen,  darkly,  pallidly  handsome,  sweet  natured,  and 
slovenly,  like  his  mother,  and,  unlike  her,  poetical,  idealistic, 
unpractical,  shy,  and  self-conscious.  He  was,  at  this  period, 
working  in  the  office  of  one  of  the  two  solicitors,  who,  with  the 
aid  of  a  branch  of  a  bank,  a  Petty  Sessions  Court,  and  the 
imposing,  plate-glass  bow-windows  of  Hallinan's  hotel, 
enabled  Cluhir  to  convince  itself  of  its  status  as  a  town. 
Further  proof  of  the  civic  importance  of  Cluhir  was  found 
in  the  existence  of  a  debating  club  of  very  advanced  political 
views  among  its  young  men,  of  which  Barty  Mangan  was 
secretary.  Its  membership,  if  small,  was  select,  since  its 
Republican  principles  did  not  compel  it  to  admit  to  its 
privileges  shop-assistants,  or  artisans,  while  they  automatically 
excluded  members  of  the  class  that  were  usually  referred  to 
in  the  club  discussions  as  "  Carrion  Crows,"  or  if  the  oirator's 
mood  was  mild,  *'  the  garrison."  In  Ireland  the  attitude  of 
mind  that  is  termed,  alternatively.  Disloyalty  or  Patriotism, 
is  largely  a  matter  of  class,  and  Barty  Mangan's  introduction 
of  Master  St.  Lawrence  Coppinger,  as  an  honorary  member  of 
the  club,  partook  of  the  nature  of  a  shock  to  those  of  the  faith- 
ful who  were  present  at  his  first  appearance  in  the  club 
room,  a  severely  plain  apartment,  that  offered  no  impediment 
in  the  matter  of  luxury  to  high  thinking.     But  the  faithful  of 

69 


70  MOUNT   MUSIC 

the  "  Sons  of  Emmet  "  Club  had  nothing  to  fear  from  this 
half -fledged  young  Carrion  Crow.  The  English  school 
to  which  Larry  had  been  sent  had  dulled  the  fire  Ht  by  the 
poems  of  The  Spirit  of  the  Nation,  but  it  had  not  extin- 
guished it.  It  had  flickered  for  a  time,  during  which  Hunting 
had  superseded  Patriotism,  and  Mr.  Jorrocks  had  reigned 
alone  ;  but  the  oratory  of  the  Sons  of  Emmet,  to  which 
Larry  was  now  privileged  to  listen,  had  had  the  effect  of 
restoring  to  life  and  vigour  the  long-neglected,  half-forgotten 
tenets  of  the  Companionage  of  Finn.  Larry's  store  of 
enthusiasm  was  quite  equal  to  supplying  motive  power  for 
running  two  engines  ;  hunting  still  held  its  own,  and  after  a 
club  debate  in  which  he  had  taken  an  energetic  part,  even  the 
most  exclusive  of  the  Sons  of  Emmet  admitted  that  Barty's 
importation  was  worthy  of  the  privilege  that  had  been  ex- 
tended to  him. 

A  spell  of  cold  weather  had  compelled  a  postponement  of 
Larry's  return  to  his  own  home.  When  snow  and  frost  visit  a 
country  unused  to  their  attentions,  they  are  treated  with  a 
respect  that  they  do  not  receive  elsewhere.  The  Doctor's 
orders  were  strict,  and  Larry  spent  the  last  days  of  his  stay 
at  No.  6,  The  Mall,  seated  in  semi-invaHd  state  by  the  dining- 
room  fire,  occupied,  mainly,  in  the  consumption  of  literature 
provided  by  his  new  friend,  Mr.  Barty  Mangan,  that  con- 
sisted of  poems,  books,  and  pamphlets  of  precisely  that  shade 
of  politics  of  which  his  family  most  thoroughly  disapproved, 
and  absorbing  what  would  be,  in  their  opinion,  the  most 
entirely  poisonous  points  of  view. 

The  Big  Doctor,  smoking  a  comfortable  evening  pipe  over 
the  fire,  would  join  in  the  discussions  between  his  son  and 
his  visitor,  ofliering  just  as  much  opposition  to  Larry's  revolu- 
tionary flights  as  was  stimulating,  and  flattered  his  sense  of 
youth  and  daring. 

"  We  mustn't  send  him  back  to  his  auntie  too  much  of  a 
rebel  altogether  !  "  The  Doctor  would  say,  grinning  at  the. 
enthusiast  with  his  pipe  wedged  under  a  tooth  ;  "  isn't  it 
good  enough  for  you  to  be  a  poor  decent  old  Nationalist 
like  myself }  I'm  sure  there's  no  one  would  disapprove  of 
me^  is  there,  Annie  ?  " 

*'  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that  at  all  !  "  Mrs.  Mangan  would 
reply  coquettishly,  trying  to  look  as  if  she  did  not  agree  with 


MOUNT   MUSIC  71 

him  ;  "  wait  till  his  auntie  hears  the  notions  Larry's  taking  up 
with,  and  she'll  think  we're  all  the  worst  in  the  world  !  And 
the  Major  !    The  Major'U  go  cracked-mad  !  " 

**  It  doesn't  matter  where  he  goes  !  "  says  Larry,  defiantly, 
"  IVe  had  these  *  notions,*  as  you  call  them,  for  ages  and 
ages  !  " 

"  Ah,  God  help  you,  child !  "  Mrs.  Mangan  would  probably 
say,  "  keep  quite  now,  till  I  get  you  a  glass  of  hot  milk  !  " 

Politics  did  not  form  the  only  point  of  contact  that  had 
been  established  between  Larry  and  the  Mangan  household. 
Since  his  promotion  to  comparative  convalescence,  Tishy, 
daughter  of  the  house,  had  entered  more  actively  into  his 
scheme  of  life,  and  the  point  of  entrance  was  music.  Some 
divergence  in  view  as  to  music  is  more  easily  condoned,  on 
both  sides,  than  in  the  other* realms  of  the  spirit.  It  matters 
not  from  how  far  countries  the  travellers  may  come,  or  how 
widely  sundered  may  be  their  ideals,  there  are  rest-houses 
at  which  they  can  draw  rein  and  find  agreement.  One  of 
these,  possibly  the  greatest  of  them,  is  folk  song.  Ireland, 
whose  head  is  ever  turned  over  her  shoulder,  looking  to  the 
past,  has,  in  her  folk  song,  at  least,  reason  and  justification 
for  her  preoccupation  with  what  has  been  in  her  music, 
rather  than  with  what  is,  or  is  to  come.  It  is  difficult  to  re- 
concile the  eternal  beauty  of  traditional  Irish  melody  with  the 
lack  of  musical  interest  and  feeling  that  distinguishes  the 
mass  of  modern  Irish  life.  But,  here  and  there,  a  string  of 
the  harp  that  has  hung,  mute,  on  Tara's  walls  for  so  many 
centuries,  utters  a  sigh  of  sweet  sound,  and  at  Number  6, 
The  Mall,  Cluhir,  the  soul  of  music  had  still  some  power 
of  inspiration. 

This  is,  perhaps,  a  rather  elaborate  method  of  intimating 
that  Dr.  Mangan  played  the  violin, moderately  as  to  technique, 
but  soundly  as  to  intonation,  and  that  he  and  his  family 
sang,  as  a  quartet,  not  only  at  charity  concerts,  but  also  for 
their  own  pleasure,  in  their  own  home.  Music,  more  than 
the  other  arts,  demands  sympathy,  and  an  audience.  In 
Larry,  the  Mangan  Quartet  recognised  that  both  require- 
ments were  supplied,  together  with  a  glorifying  enthusiasm 
of  appreciation — though  this  they  scarcely  recognised — that 
gilded  for  him  their  achievements,  as  the  firelight  had  edged 
the  profile  of  Nurse  Brennan  with  pure  gold.     Larry,  it  has 


72  MOUNT   MUSIC 

already  been  said,  had  the  artistic  temperament ;  he  had 
also  a  generous  heart,  and  he  was  of  an  age  when  apprecia- 
tion is  spontaneous,  and  criticism  is  either  unborn,  or  is  only 
an  echo  of  some  maturer  mind.  Therefore,  as  he  lay  on  the 
Mangan  blue  rep-covered  drawing-room  sofa,  with  a  satin 
cushion  adorned  with  Tishy's  conception  of  roses,  in  water- 
colour,  under  his  head,  while  pretty  Nurse  Brennan  gently 
massaged  his  wrist,  and  the  Mangan  Quartet  warbled  : 
*'  O,  beheve  me  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms," 
or  ''  When  thro'  life  unblest  we  rove,"  Larry  passed  into 
ecstasy,  that,  had  he  been  one  degree  less  of  a  schoolboy, 
might  have  been  exhaled  in  tears  ;  even  as  the  sun  draws 
water  from  the  sea,  in  a  mist  of  glory,  and  returns  it  to  the 
world  again  in  rain. 

Tishy  was  accompanist,  and  sang  alto  ;  her  mother,  who 
knew  nothing  of  notation,  and  sang  by  ear,  sang  treble  ; 
Barty  had  a  supple  and  pleasing  tenor,  and  the  Doctor  pos- 
sessed a  solemn  bass,  deep  and  dark  as  a  thundercloud, 
yet  mellow  as  the  hum  of  a  hive  of  honey-bees  on  a  summer 
morning  ;  a  rare  voice  and  a  beautiful  one,  that  had  its 
counterpart  in  the  contralto  that  already,  at  sixteen  and  a 
ialf,  had  given  Tishy  power  and  distinction  among  her 
fellows. 

At  this  time.  Miss  Letitia  Mangan's  views,  and  those  of 
ler  parents,  as  to  her  future,  musical  or  otherwise,  were 
entirely  divergent.  Hers  held  as  central  figure  a  certain 
medical  student,  with  an  incipient  red  moustache,  and  a 
command  of  boxes  of  chocolate  that  was  bewildering  to  those 
acquainted  with  his  income.  Quite  other  were  Dr.  Mangan's 
intentions  with  regard  to  his  daughter,  but  he  was  satisfied 
to  keep  them  out  of  sight ;  he  was  aware  that,  in  all  solid 
Buildings,  the  deeper  and  farther  out  of  sight  the  foundation, 
ihe  more  assured  is  the  result. 

It  is  possible  that  the  idea  of  a  farewell  entertainment  in 
Larry's  honour  emanated  from  the  Big  Doctor  ;  if  so,  he 
had  erased  his  tracks  very  thoroughly,  and  it  was  regarded 
by  Mrs.  Mangan's  intimates  as  a  final  brandishing  of  her 
trophy  before  she  was  forced  to  relinquish  it.  Larry  was 
indisputably  a  trophy,  and  Heaven  was  considered  to  have 
exercised  a  very  undue  discrimination  in  Mrs.  Mangan's 
favour  when  it  threw  him  into  her  house  and  her  hands. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  73 

It  was  a  very  select  party,  only  a  score  or  so  of  boys  and  girls, 
with  the  elders  appertaining  to  them.  Nurse  Brennan  had 
departed,  taking  with  her  Larry's  young  affections,  and  a  gift, 
costly  and  superfluous,  of  a  silver-mounted  mirror,  which  was 
accompanied  by  some  chaste  lines,  expressive  of  Master 
Coppinger's  desire  to  share  its  privileges,  whose  composition 
had  kept  him  happy  throughout  a  long,  wet  afternoon. 

The  party,  having  opened  with  lemonade,  tea  and  innumer- 
able cakes,  moved  on  through  **  a  little  music,"  (contributed 
exclusively  by  the  Mangan  Quartet)  to  games.  Larry, 
afflicted  by  the  discovery  that  he  had,  during  his  illness, 
outgrown  his  evening  clothes,  found  himself  fated  to  do 
conspicuous  things  in  the  centre  of  a  space,  cleared  as  for  a 
prize-fight,  in  the  Mangan  drawing-room.  Problems  in 
connection  with  a  ship  that  came  from  China.  Exhausting 
efforts  in  guessing  absurdities,  that  usually  necessitated 
withdrawal  to  the  landing  outside  the  door  with  a  giggling 
schoolgirl,  and  collaboration  with  her  in  a  code  of  com- 
plicated signals.  And,  blackest  feature  of  all,  mistakes  in 
any  of  these  arduous  matters  entailed  "  forfeits,"  and  the 
process  entitled  "  paying  the  forfeits,"  meant  a  concen- 
tration of  attention  upon  a  young  gentleman,  conscious  to 
agony  of  the  fact  that  his  trousers  left  his  ankle-bones 
unshielded  from  the  public  gaze. 

■  It  was  sufficiently  distressing  to  lie  at  full  length  on  the 
carpet,  and  declare  oneself  to  be  the  length  of  a  looby,  and  the 
breadth  of  a  booby,  but  what  was  that  as  compared  with  sitting, 
blindfolded,  on  a  chair,  and  guessing,  among  many  kisses, 
which  had  been  bestowed  by  *'  the  girl  he  loved  best  ?  " 
As  if  he  loved  any  of  them  !  These  pert  and  blowsy  school- 
girls, with  hideous  voices,  and  arrogant  curls,  or  crimped 
lion-manes  of  aggressive  hair  !  He,  with  "  his  heart  set  all 
upon  a  snowy  coif  !  "  (as  he  chose  to  wrest  Mr.  Yeats'  line  to 
his  own  purposes). 

It  was  singular  in  how  many  of  these  exercises,  of  which 
the  greater  number  included  kissing,  he  found  himself  involved 
with  Tishy  Mangan.  Tishy  was  in  a  bad  temper.  The 
red-headed  medical  student  had  not  been  honoured  with  an 
invitation.  Dr.  Mangan  had  struck  his  name  from  the 
list  of  guests  saying  that  they  had  enough  without  him,  and 
Tjshy  knew  her  father  too  well  to  protest.    Dr.  Mangan 


74  MOUNT    MUSIC 

was  in  the  habit  of  saying  that  he  always  left  all  household 
affairs  "  in  the  hands  of  the  ladies."  He  did  not  add,  as  he 
might  have  done,  that  these  hands  lay  within  his,  and  that 
their  owners  had  long  since  realised  that  it  was  advisable 
to  respond  to  any  indication  of  pressure.  His  daughter, 
however,  while  she  submitted  to  the  inevitable,  saw  no  reason 
why  she  should  deny  herself  the  solace  of  sulking,  nor  of 
avenging  herself  of  his  tyranny  on  **  his  fine  pet,'*  as  she, 
in  high  indignation,  described  Larry  to  herself.  Master 
Coppinger  might  be  a  man  of  property  and  the  owner  of 
Coppinger's  Court,  yes,  or  Dublin  Castle,  for  all  she  cared  ! 
Pappy  might  say  what  he  liked,  but  she  wouldn't  be  bothered 
with  a  boy  like  that  !  And  there  was  Ned  Cloherty — (this 
was  the  medical  student) — that  she  had  as  good  as  asked  to 
come — and  what  could  she  say  to  him  now,  she  wondered  } 
So  Tishy  sulked,  and  resented  the  Hidden  Hand,  that  so 
inevitably  linked  her  with  the  owner  of  Coppinger's  Court, 
as  much  as  did  that  man  of  property  himself. 

The  evening  wore  on  ;  with  romping,  with  screaming, 
with  enormous  consumption  of  various  foods,  and  with  an 
ever-heightening  temperature,  that  was  specially  noticeable 
among  those  seniors  who  had  not  disdained  the  brew  of 
punch  that  had  coincided  with  the  announcement  of  midnight, 
made,  with  maddening  deliberation,  by  Mrs.  Mangan's 
cuckoo-clock.  The  usual  delirium  of  cracker-head-dresses 
had  befallen  the  company.  Larry,  decorated  with  a  dunce's 
cap,  placed  upon  his  yellow  head  by  a  jovial  matron,  found 
himself  fated,  by  a  final  efl[ort  of  penalising  fancy  on  the 
part  of  another  matron,  to  select  "  a  young  lady,"  to  conduct 
her  to  the  topmost  step  of  the  staircase,  and  there,  on  his 
knees,  to  kiss  either  her  shoe-buckle  or  her  lips  ;  "  which- 
ever he  likes  best  !  "  decreed  the  matron,  archly. 

It  is  strange  how  the  reserves  and  reticences  of  childhood, 
the  things  that  offend,  the  things  that  bring  agony,  are  for- 
gotten by  so  many  of  those  who  have  left  childhood  behind. 
In  extenuation  of  this  lively  and  kindly  lady,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  manners  and  customs  of  her  early  youth  were  not 
those  to  which  Larry  was  habituated.  Yet,  one  might  have 
thought  that  a  glance  at  Larry's  face  would  have  sufficed 
to  induce  Rhadamanthus  himself  to  remit  the  penalty.  Not 
so  Mrs.  Whelply,  the  arbitrator. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  75 

"  Oh,  look  at  the  pout  on  him  !  What  a  naughty  boy  ! 
If  you  don't  take  care,  I'll  put  a  worse  task  on  you  !  " 

Larry,  oblivious  of  the  dunce's  cap,  feeling  himself  in  the 
grip  of  a  social  machine  that  was  too  strong  for  him,  looked 
round  upon  the  company.  Hot,  pink  faces,  shining  eyes  and 
teeth,  Moenad  hair,  on  all  sides.  Then  he  caught  sight  of 
Tishy's  eyes,  scornful  and  amused,  regarding  him  as  he 
stood  irresolute,  and  his  spirit  responded  to  the  spur 
of  contempt.  He  crossed  the  open  space  of  floor  to 
where  she  was  seated  on  the  blue  rep  sofa,  took  off  the 
dunce's  cap  with  a  flourish,  and,  with  a  low  bow,  offered  her 
his  arm. 

A  chorus  of  approval,  weighted  by  the  Big  Doctor's  big 
laugh,  greeted  the  action.  Tishy,  cornered,  accepted  the 
arm,  the  door  was  swung  open  for  them,  and  ostentatiously 
slammed  behind  them. 

Larry,  silent,  and  very  angry,  mounted  the  stairs  quickly, 
and  Tishy  perforce,  her  hand  gripped  by  his  elbow,  followed 
him.  At  the  highest  step  but  one,  Larry  stood  aside,  and 
Tishy  ascended,  and  turning,  faced  him  from  the  top.  They 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Both  were 
furiously  angry,  resenting  the  compulsion  that  had  forced 
them  into  an  absurd  position. 

Then  Tishy  said  insolently  :  "  Well  !  Which  will  you 
have  ?     My  shoe-buckle  or  my  lips  ?     Take  your  choice  !  " 

She  poked  her  foot  out  over  the  edge  of  the  step  confidently. 

A  spark  shot  from  Larry's  angry  heart  to  his  blue  eyes. 
He  looked  up  at  Tishy,  and  something  suddenly  masterful 
awoke  in  him.  Confound  her  !  He  wouldn't  have  her 
laughing  at  him  ! 

*'  I'll  have  your  lips,  please  !  "  he  said,  mounting  to  the 
step  beside  her. 

With  schoolboy  roughness  he  flung  his  arm  round  her 
shoulders.  She  was  a  little  taller  than  he,  but  she  did  not 
withdraw  herself ;  she  was  curiously  aware  that  her  point  of 
view  was  changing.  She  looked  for  an  instant  in  his  eyes, 
and  then  she  laid  her  lips  on  his. 

Larry  found,  with  surprise,  that  they  returned  the  pressure 
of  his  own  as  he  kissed  her.  The  spark  that  had  been  in 
his  eyes  seemed  to  have  flown  to  his  lips,  and  met  another 
spark  in  hers. 


76  MOUNT   MUSIC 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Larry  found  himself  a 
little  out  of  breath,  and  somehow  bewildered.  There  was 
more  in  it  than  he  thought.  He  didn't  quite  know  what  to 
do  next. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said,  stiffly,  and  offered  his 
arm. 

In  silence  they  walked  down  the  stairs  again.  The  piano 
had  begun,  and  **  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly  "  was  being  thundered 
forth.  At  the  door  they  met  the  Doctor.  Larry  released 
Tishy's  arm. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  he  said  to  the  Doctor,  "  I  think  1*11 
go  up  to  bed.     I'm  tired." 

After  he  had  got  to  his  room  he  shook  himself,  much  as  a 
dog  renews  its  vitality  by  shaking  its  ears.  Then  he  poured 
some  water  into  the  basin  and  washed  his  hot  face,  scrubbing 
his  lips  with  the  sponge. 

Yet,  to  his  infinite  annoyance,  he  seemed  still  to  feel  the 
pressure  of  Tishy's  warm  mouth  on  his. 


I 


CHAPTER   XII 

It  is,  or  should  be,  superfluous  to  say  that  Miss  Frederica 
Coppinger  viewed  with  disfavour,  that  was  the  more  poignant 
for  its  helplessness,  Larry's  adoption  and  assimilation  by  the 
Mangan  family. 

*'  Disastrous  !  "  she  said  in  a  tragic  voice,  to  the  Rector  of 
Knockceoil  parish.  "If  he  were  a  Protestant  it  wouldn't 
matter  so  much  ;  but,  as  things  are,  for  him  to  be 
thrown  among  these  second-rate,  Nationalistic,  Roman 
Catholics !  " 

The  intensity  of  Miss  Coppinger 's  emotions  silenced  him. 
She  had  indeed  beaten  her  biggest  drum,  and  she  knew  it. 

The  Rector,  the  Reverend  Charles  Fetherston,  nodded  his 
head  with  solemnity,  and  made  a  conscientious  effort  to  re- 
member what  she  was  speaking  of.  He  was  not  much  in 
the  habit  of  attending  to  what  was  said  to  him,  finding  his 
own  thoughts  more  interesting  than  those  of  his  parishioners. 
The  parishioners,  being  aware  of  this  peculiarity,  put  it  down, 
very  naturally,  to  eccentricity  for  which  he  was  rather  to  be 
pitied  than  condenmed,  and  his  popularity  was  in  no  way 
abated  by  it.  Mr.  Fetherston  was  unmarried,  in  age  about 
sixty  ;  tall,  stout,  red-faced,  of  good  family,  a  noted  wood- 
cock shot  and  salmon  fisher,  a  carpenter,  and  an  incessant 
pipe-smoker.  These  being  his  leading  gifts,  it  will  probably, 
and  with  accuracy,  be  surmised  by  persons  conversant  with 
the  Irish  Church,  that  he  was  a  survival  of  its  earliest  days, 
when  it  was  still  an  avocation  suitable  for  gentlemen,  and  one 
in  which  they  could  indulge  without  any  taint  of  professional- 
ism being  laid  to  their  charge.  He  was  immensely  respected 
and  admired  by  the  poor  people  of  the  parish  (none  of  whom 
were  included  in  his  small  and  well-to-do  congregation), 
the  fact  that  he  was  what  is  known  as  **  old  stock,"  giving  him 
a  prestige  among  the  poorer  Roman  Catholics,  that  they  would 

77 


78  MOUNT   MUSIC 

have  denied  to  St.  Peter.  He  shared  with  Major  Talbot- 
Lowry  the  position  of  consultant  in  feuds,  and  relieving 
officer  in  distress,  and,  being  rich,  liberal,  easily  bored,  and 
not  particularly  sympathetic  to  affliction,  he  was  accustomed 
to  stanch  the  flow  of  tears  and  talk  alike,  with  a  form  of  solace 
that  rarely  failed  to  meet  the  case,  and  was  always  acceptable. 
With  Miss  Coppinger,  he  felt,  regretfully,  that  five  shillings 
could  in  no  way  be  brought  to  bear  upon  her  problem,  and 
with  an  eflFort  he  withdrew  his  mind  from  a  new  hinge  that 
he  thought  of  fitting  to  a  garden-gate,  and  applied  it  to  Larry. 

"  How  old  is  the  boy  now  ?  Sixteen  last  October  }  He 
doesn't  look  as  much — you'll  see  he'll  outgrow  all  that  non- 
sense of  Nationalism  !  Send  him  to  Oxford  as  soon  as  you 
can.  He'll  soon  get  hold  of  some  other  tomfoolery  there, 
and  forget  this.     Seven  devils  worse  than  the  first,  in  fact  !  '* 

The  Reverend  Charles  laughed,  wheezily,  and  began, 
automatically,  to  fill  a  pipe,  an  indication  of  a  change  of  mental 
outlook. 

''  Worse?  "  cried  Miss  Frederica,  ardently  ;  "  no  indeed, 
Mr.  Fetherston  !  Better  !  Far  better  !  ^«y thing  is  pre- 
ferable to  this — this  Second-rate  Sedition  !  " 

When  Frederica  perorated,  and  this  remark  partook  of  the 
nature  of  peroration,  it  was  as  though  she  took  a  header  into 
deep  water.  By  the  time  she  had  again  risen  to  the  surface 
of  her  emotions,  the  Reverend  Charles  Fetherston  had 
returned  to  the  hinge  of  the  garden-gate,  and  Miss  Cop- 
pinger, knowing  her  man,  made  no  attempt  to  recall  him. 
She  had  a  very  special  regard  for  her  rector,  of  a  complex 
sort  that  is  not  quite  easy  to  define.  There  was  veneration 
in  it,  the  veneration  that  was  inculcated  in  her  youth  for  the 
clergy  ;  there  was  the  compassion  that  many  capable  and  self- 
confident  women  bestow  upon  any  man  to  whom  Providence 
has  denied  a  feminine  protector  ;  there  was  a  regretful 
pity  for  his  shortcomings — (but  half-acknowledged,  even  to 
herself) — as  a  Minister  of  the  Word,  counterbalanced  by 
respect  for  his  worldly  wisdom  ;  above  all,  there  was  the  deep, 
peculiar  interest  that  was  excited  in  her  by  any  clergyman, 
merely  in  virtue  of  his  office,  a  person  whose  trade  it  was  to 
occupy  himself  with  the  art  and  practice  of  religion,  which 
was  a  subject  that  had,  quite  apart  from  its  spiritual  side,  the 
same  appeal  for  her  that  the  art  and  oractice  of  the  theatre 


MOUNT   MUSIC  79 

has  for  many  others.  (It  is  hard  to  imagine  any  simile  that 
would  have  shocked  Frederica  more  than  this  ;  in  all  her 
years  of  strenuous,  straightforward  life,  she  had  never,  as 
she  would  have  said,  set  foot  in  a  theatre.) 

Frederica  had  been  born  at  Coppinger's  Court,  and  she 
had  passed  her  childhood  there,  but  her  youth  had  been  spent 
in  Dublin,  in  the  hot  heart  of  a  parish  devoted  to  good  works, 
and  to  a  pastor  whose  power  and  authority  was  in  no  degree 
less  absolute  than  that  of  any  of  the  "  Romish  priests  "  whom 
he  so  heartily  denounced.  She  was  brought  up  in  that  school 
of  Irish  Low  Church  Protestantism  that  makes  more  severe 
demands  upon  submission  and  creduhty  than  any  other,  and 
yet  more  fiercely  arraigns  other  creeds  on  those  special  counts. 
It  is  quite  arguable  that  Irish  people,  like  the  Israelites  who 
so  ardently  desired  a  king,  enjoy  and  thrive  under  religious 
oppression,  and  it  is  beyond  dispute  that  among  the  oppressed, 
of  both  the  rival  creeds,  are  saints  whose  saintliness  has 
gained  force  from  the  systems  to  which  they  have  given  their 
allegiance.  To  Frederica  the  practice  of  her  cult  both 
inwardly  in  her  heart,  and  outwardly  in  the  work  of  St. 
Matthew's  Parish,  was  the  mainspring  of  her  existence. 
It  was  also  her  pastime.  She  would  analyse  a  sermon, 
as  Dick  Lowry  would  discuss  a  run,  and  with  the  same  eager 
enjoyment.  She  assented  with  enthusiasm  to  the  Doctrine 
of  Eternal  Damnation,  and  a  gentler-hearted  creature  than  she 
never  lived.  She  would  have  gone  to  the  stake  for  the 
Verbal  Inspiration  of  the  Bible  ;  she  was  as  convinced  that 
the  task  of  Creation  was  completed  in  a  week,  as  she  was  that 
she  paid  the  Coppinger's  Court  workmen  for  six  days'  work 
every  Saturday  evening.  In  short,  the  good  Frederica  was 
a  survival  of  an  earlier  and  more  earnest  period,  and  her 
rehgious  beliefs  were  only  comparable,  in  their  sincerity  and 
simplicity,  with  those  of  the  Roman  CathoHc  poor  people, 
whose  spiritual  prospects  were  to  her  no  less  black  (theoretically) 
than  were  hers  to  them. 

Those  who  know  Ireland  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
believing  that  Miss  Coppinger  had  no  warmer  sympathisers 
in  her  feelings  concerning  Larry  and  the  Mangan  household 
than  the  Coppinger's  Court  retainers,  despite  the  fact  that 
none  of  them  were  of  her  communion,  nor  did  they  share  her 
political  views.      And  no  less  will  those  who  know  Ireland, 


8o  MOUNT   MUSIC 

recognise  that  in  the  Irish  countryside  it  is  the  extremes 
that  touch,  and  that  there  is  a  sympathy  and  understanding 
between  the  uppermost  and  the  lowest  strata  of  Irish  social 
Hfe,  which  is  not  extended,  by  either  side,  to  the  intervening 
one.  Thus,  it  was  that  Frederica  could,  and  did  converse 
with  her  work-people  and  her  peasant  neighbours,  with  a 
freedom  and  an  implicit  confidence  in  their  good  breeding, 
that  it  is  to  be  feared  she  was  incapable  of  extending  to  Larry's 
new  acquaintances  in  Cluhir.  Possibly  the  outdoor  life, 
and  the  mutual  engrossment  in  outdoor  affairs,  explain,  in 
some  degree,  this  sympathy,  but  at  the  root  of  it  is  the  certainty 
on  both  sides,  that  the  well-bred,  even  the  chivalrous  point 
of  view,  will  govern  their  intercourse. 

It  may  seem  somewhat  excessive  to  use  the  word  chivalry 
in  connection  with  Mrs.  Twomey,  the  Coppinger's  Court 
dairy-woman.  Yet,  I  dare  to  say  that  as  great  a  soul  filled 
the  four  feet  four  inches  that  comprised  her  excessively 
plain  little  person,  as  ever  inspired  warrior  or  fighting  queen 
in  the  brave  days  of  old.  Born  and  bred  under  the  Talbot- 
Lowrys,  she  had  crossed  the  river  when  she  married  one  of 
the  Coppinger's  Court  workmen,  and  for  close  on  thirty- 
five  years  she  had  milked  the  cows  and  ruled  the  dairy 
according  to  her  own  methods,  which  were  as  rigorous  as 
they  were  remarkable,  and  altered  not  with  modern  enlighten- 
ment, or  conformed  with  hygienic  laws.  Her  husband  was 
a  feeble  creature,  whose  sole  claim  to  distinction  was  his 
inabihty  to  speak  English.  At  the  time  that  "  The  Family," 
(which  is,  say,  Frederica  and  Larry)  returned,  he  had  become 
quite  bhnd,  and  he  passed  a  cloistered  existence  in  a  dark 
corner  of  his  little  cottage,  sitting,  with  his  hat  always  upon 
his  head,  a  being  seemingly  as  withdrawn  from  the  current  of 
life  as  one  of  the  smoky  brown  and  white  china  dogs  on  the 
shelf  above  the  wide  hearth. 

The  legend  ran  that  when  he  was  young,  a  marriage  had 
been  arranged  for  him.  On  the  appointed  wedding-day 
he  had  gone  to  the  chapel,  the  priest  was  there,  and 
the  wedding-guests,  but  no  bride  came.  Michael  Twomey 
therefore,  after  a  fruitless  exercise  of  patience,  left  the  chapel 
in  deep  wrath  and  humiliation,  and  proceeded  to  walk  home 
again.  On  the  road  he  was  faced  by  a  string  of  laughing 
girls,  and  among  them  theie  was  little  Mary  DriscoU.    Mary 


MOUNT   MUSIC  8i 

had  then,  noTdoubt,  such  grace  as  youth  can  give,  and  that 
she  had,  at  least,  good  teeth,  was  obvious  to  the  disgruntled 
Michael  Twomey,  as  she  was  grinning  at  him  from  ear  to  ear. 
Also,  possibly,  his^  sight  may  not  even  then  have  been  cf 
the  best.     Be  that  as  it  may,  Michael  caught  at  Mary's  arm. 

**  Come  on  to  the  chapel,  Mary  !  "  he  shouted  at  her,  in 
the  Irish  that  was  a  more  common  speech  in  those  days  than 
it  is  now  ;  '*  The  priest  is  there  yet,  and  the  money  is  in  my 
pocket.     I'll  marry  you  !  " 

Michael  had  made  a  luckier  hit  than  he  knew.  Little 
Mary  Driscoll  recognised  the  sporting  quality  of  the  sugges- 
tion, and  being  a  girl  of  spirit  acceded  to  it. 

Mary  had  been  to  America.  She  was  one  of  the  many  of 
her  class  who  put  forth  fearlessly  for  the  United  States, 
adventuring  upon  the  unknown  without  any  of  the  qualms 
that  would  beset  them  were  the  bourne  London,  or  even 
one  of  the  cities  of  their  native  land.  Wasn't  Mary's  mother's 
sisther's  daughter,  and  Maggie  Brian  from  Tullagh,  and  the 
dear  knows  how  many  more  cousins  and  neighbours,  before 
her  in  it  ?  Didn't  her  brother  that  was  marrit  in  it,  send  her 
her  ticket,  and  wasn't  there  good  money  to  be  aimed  in  it  ? 

These  queries,  that,  as  may  be  seen  by  anyone  with  half 
an  eye,  answered  themselves,  having  been  propounded  by 
little  Mary  Driscoll,  she,  roaring  crying,  and  keened  by  all 
her  relatives  to  the  coach-door — no  railway  being  within 
thirty  miles  of  her  home — departed  to  America,  and  was 
swallowed  up  by  *'  Boyshton  "  for  the  space  of  five  years, 
during  the  passage  of  which,  since  she  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  no  communication  passed  between  her  and  her  parents, 
save  only  the  postal  orders  that,  through  an  inter- 
mediary, she  unfaiHngly  sent  them.  Then  there  was  a  month 
that  the  postal  order  came  not,  and  while  the  old  father  and 
mother  were  wondering'^ was  Mary  dead,  or  what  ailed  her, 
Mary  walked  in,  uglier  than  ever  in  her  Boyshton  clothes, 
and  it  was  gloriously  reaHsed  that  not  only  was  not  Mary 
dead  at  all,  but  that  she  had  as  much  saved  as  would  bury  the 
old  people,  or  maybe  marry  herself. 

Mary  had  not  enjoyed  America.  She  wouldn't  get  her 
health  in  it,  she  said. 

(*'  Ye  wouldn't  see  a  fat  face  or  a  red  cheek  on  one  o'  thim 
that  comes  back,"  assented  Mary's  mother)  ;   and  for  as  little 

F 


82  MOUNT   MUSIC 

as  she  was,  Marylcontinued,  she'd  rather  bring  her  bones 
home  with  herself  to  Cunnock-a-Ceoil.  (A  cryptic  phrase 
signifying  that  though  she  recognised,  humorously,  her  own 
unworthiness,  she  still  attached  sufficient  importance  to  her 
person  to  wish  to  bestow  it  upon  the  fplace  of  her  birth.) 
Not  long  after  her  return  and  restoration  to  health,  the  episode 
of  her  marriage  had  occurred,  and  she  had  settled  down  into 
the  soil  of  Ireland  again,  with,  possibly,  a  slightly  increased 
freedom  of  manner,  but,  saving  this,  with  no  more  token  on 
her  of  her  dash  into  the  new  world,  than  has  the  little  fish 
that  Hes  and  pants  on  the  river  bank  for  a  moment,  before  the 
angler  contemptuously  chucks  him  into  the  stream  again. 

Michael  and  Mary  Twomey  had  been  on  the  staff  of 
Coppinger's  Court  for  a  full  thirty  years  when,  in  the  fullness 
of  time,  Frederica  returned  to  her  ancient  home,  bringing  with 
her  the  young  heir  to  it,  and  all  its  accessory  tenanted  lands. 
Not  Green  Dragon  or  The  Norreys  King-at-Arms,  or  any 
other  pontiff  of  pedigrees,  could  attach  a  higher  import- 
ance to  gentle  blood  than  did  little  elderly  Mary  Twomey, 
elderly,  but  still  as  indomitably  nimble  and  resolute  as  when 
in  Frederica's  childhood  she  would  catch  the  donkey  for  her, 
and  run  after  it,  belabouring  it  in  its  rider's  interest,  for  half 
an  afternoon. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Miss  Coppinger's  youth  had  been 
spent,  chiefly,  in  a  town,  the  love  of  the  country,  ingrained 
during  her  first  years,  was  merely  dormant,  and  it  revived 
with  her  return  to  Coppinger's  Court.  The  garden,  the  farm, 
the  hens,  the  cattle,  the  dairy,  were  all  interests  to  which  she 
returned  with  that  renewal  of  early  passion,  that  has  in  it  the 
fervour  of  youth  as  well  as  the  depth  of  maturity.  She  read 
agricultural  papers  insatiably,  and  beheved  all  that  she  read, 
accepting  the  verbal  inspiration  of  their  advertisements  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  her  religious  beliefs.  She  was  a  doctrinaire 
farmer,  and  she  applied  to  the  garden,  the  farm  and  the 
poultry-yard,  the  same  zeal  and  intensity  that  had  made  her 
in  earlier  days  the  backbone  of  committees,  and  the  leading 
exponent  of  the  godly  activities  of  St.  Matthew's.  She  was 
regarded  by  the  heretofore  rulers  of  these  various  provinces 
with  a  mixture  of  respect,  contempt,  and  apprehension. 
She  was  an  incalculable  force,  with  a  predisposition  towards 
novelty,   and  novelty,   especially  if  founded  on  theory,  is 


MOUNT   MUSIC  83 

abhorrent  to  such  as  old  Johnny  Galvin  the  steward,  or 
Peter  Flood  the  gardener,  or,  stiffest  in  her  own  conceit  of 
all,  Mrs.  Twomey  of  the  dairy. 

*'  Master  Larry's  coming  home  from  Cluhir  to-morrow, 
Mary,"  Miss  Coppinger  announced,  with  satisfaction,  to 
the  pecuhar  confection  of  grey  hair  and  black  chenille  net 
that  represented  the  back  of  Mrs.  Twomey 's  head,  her  fore- 
head being  pressed  against  the  side  of  the  cow  that  she  was 
milking. 

**  Thang  -aade  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Twomey  fervently,  expres- 
sing in  this  concise  form  her  gratitude  to  her  Creator  for  what 
she  considered  to  be  Larry's  release  from  a  very  vile  durance. 
**  He's  long  enough  in  it  already  !  " 

'*  The  Doctor  wouldn't  let  me  move  him  any  sooner," 
replied  Miss  Coppinger,  apologetically. 

**  The  divil  doubt  him,  what  a  fool  he'd  be  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Twomey,  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  Aren't  they  all  sayin'  as 
sure  as  gun  is  iron  it's  what  he  wants  that  he'll  see  his  daughter 
in  Coppinger 's  Court  before  he  dies  !  " 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  said  Miss  Coppinger,  warmly  ;  *'  I 
should  like  to  know  who  is  saying  it  !  " 

Mrs.  Twomey,  milking  ceaselessly,  slewed  her  head  a 
little  and  looked  at  her  employer  out  of  the  corner  of  an 
eye  as  bright  and  as  cunning  as  a  hen's,  and  said  :  **  As  rich 
as  your  Honour  is,  you  couldn't  put  a  penny  into  the  mouth 
of  every  man  that's  sayin'  it  !  " 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you,  Mary,"  said  Frederica,  indignantly, 
"  You  ought  to  have  more  sense  than  to  repeat  such  rubbish  !  " 

To  this  reproach,  Mrs.  Twomey  responded  with  a  long 
and  jubilant  crow  of  laughter. 

"  Yerra,  gerr'l  alive — !"  she  corrected  herself  quickly. 
"  My  lady  alive,  I  should  say — sure  a  little  thing  like  me'd 
tell  lies  as  fast  as  a  hen'd  pick  peas  !  " 

The  modesty,  as  well  as  the  accuracy,  of  this  statement 
silenced  Miss  Coppinger  for  a  moment. 

'  Then  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  !  "  she  resumed 
with  much  severity.  "  It  is  amazing  to  me  how  a  decent, 
respectable  little  woman  hke  you  can  not  only  tell  lies,  but 
boast  of  it  !  " 

'*  Ah  ha  !  I'm  the  same  owld  three  and  fourpince,  an' 
will  be  till  I  die  !  "  triumphed  Mrs.  Twomey,  with  another 


84  MOUNT   MUSIC 

screech  of  laughter,  removing  her  tiny  person,  her  milk- 
pail,  and  her  stool  from  under  the  cow.  "  An'  I  won't  be 
long  dyin'  !  "  another  screech  ;  *'  an'  it  won't  take  many 
to  carry  me  to  Cunnock-a-Ceoil  Churchyard  !  " 

A  final  and  prolonged  burst  of  mirth  succeeded  this 
announcement,  during  which  the  unrepentant  Three  and 
Fourpence  swung  the  pail  on  to  the  hook  of  the  swinging- 
balance  for  weighing  the  milk  that  was  Miss  Coppinger's 
latest  and  most  detested  innovation. 

*'  Look  at  that  now  what  she  has  for  you,  Miss  !  Shixteen 
pints  !  An'  I'll  engage  I'll  knock  thirteen  ounces  o'  butther 
out  of  it  !  That's  the  little  bracket  cow  that  yourself  and 
Johnny  Galvin  wanted  to  sell,  an'  I  withstood  ye  !  " 

This  was  of  the  nature,  jointly,  of  a  counter-attack  and  of  a 
truckle  to  the  system  of  milk-records,  but  Frederica  heeded 
it  not.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  still  somewhat  dis- 
composed by  the  insinuations  that  were  more  numerous 
than  the  pennies  she  was  believed  to  possess. 

**  I  hope,  Mary,"  she  said,  repressively,  "  that  if  you 
should  hear  any  more  talk  of  that  kind  about  Dr.  Mangan, 
you  will  do  your  best  to  contradict  it.  He  has  been  extremely 
kind  to  Master  Larry,  and  it  annoys  me  very  much  that  such 
things  should  be  said." 

Mrs.  Twomey's  supple  mind  was  swift  to  realise  that  a 
change  of  attitude  was  advisable. 

*'  Why  then,  upon  my  truth  and  body,  I'd  blame  no  one 
that  wanted  Master  Larry  !  That  little  fella  is  in  tune  with 
all  the  world  !  "  she  declared  ;  "  but  those  people  do  be 
always  gibbing  and  gabbing  !  Give  them  a  smell,  and  they're 
that  suspeecious  they'll  do  the  rest  !  Sure  I  said  to  that  owld 
man  below,  Mikey  Twomey" — thus  dispassionately  was  Mrs. 
Twomey  wont  to  speak  of  her  husband — "  I  says  to  him, 
that  your  Honour  was  satisfied  to  leave  Master  Larry  back  in 
Cluhir  till  he'd  be  well  agin.  They  were  all  sayin'  the  child 
wouldn't  be  said  by  ye  to  come  back  !  Didn't  I  have  to  put 
the  heighth  o'  the  house  o'  curses  to  it  before  he'd  believe 
me  !  " 

"  Intolerable  nonsense  !  "  said  Frederica,  hotly. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

People  have  said,  retrospectively,  that  the  rise  of  the  Mangan 
family  dated  from  the  fall  of  Larry  Coppinger  into  the 
Feorish  River.  This  may,  or  may  not  have  been  the  case, 
but  it  is  certain  that  Mrs.  Mangan 's  way  through  the  world 
took  at  about  this  time  an  upward  trend,  and  one  of  the  most 
perceptible  ascending  jerks  was  the  result  of  Lady  Isabel 
Talbot-Lowry's  Sale  of  Work. 

This  function  had  been  ordained  with,  for  object,  the 
provision  of  a  fund  for  the  renovation  of  the  parish  church  of 
Knock  Ceoil,  and  was  obviously  a  matter  without  interest 
for  persons  of  another  denomination.  Lady  Isabel,  and  Miss 
Coppinger,  and  others  of  their  friends  and  neighbours, 
slaved  at  the  provision  of  munitions  for  it,  as  good  women 
will  slave  at  such  emprises,  squandering  energy  on  the  con- 
struction of  those  by-products  of  the  rag-bag  that  were 
specially  consecrated  to  charitable  purposes  by  the  ladies  of 
their  period. 

''  No  one  will  want  to  buy  this  rubbish,"  said  Miss 
Coppinger,  who  never  tried  to  deceive  even  herself,  "  but 
people  will  have  to  spend  their  money  on  something,  and 
we're  not  going  to  raffle  bottles  of  brandy — as  they  did  at 
that  R.C.  Bazaar  in  Riverstown  !  '* 

Frederica  could  be  just,  but  when  a  question  of  religion 
intervened,  she  found  it  hard  to  be  generous. 

The  Sale  of  Work  took  place  during  the  September  that 
followed  the  winter  of  Larry's  disaster,  and  it  was  indis- 
putable that  the  Mangan  family  contributed  materially  to  its 
success.  Mrs.  Mangan  was  of  a  class  that  is  accustomed  to 
get  its  money's  worth,  and  was  herself  known  and  respected 
as  an  able  and  inveterate  haggler.  Yet,  at  the  Mount  Music 
Sale,  she  was  content  to  hide  her  talent  beneath  innumerable 
chair-backs  and  night-dress  cases,  purchased,  uncomplain- 

85 


86  MOUNT   MUSIC 

ingly,  at  the  prices  marked  on  them,  and  to  permit  the  con- 
tents of  an  apparently  inexhaustible  purse  to  flow  in  a  golden 
stream  from  stall  to  stall.  Her  family  were  no  less  in  evidence, 
the  Big  Doctor  offering  himself  a  cheerful  victim  on  the  shrine 
of  raffles,  even  attaching  himself  to  Christian  as  a  coadjutor 
in  the  sale  of  tickets  for  the  disposal  of  one  of  Rinka's  latest 
progeny.  Mrs  Mangan's  son  and  daughter,  something  sub- 
dued by  unfamiliar  surroundings,  were,  on  the  disposal  of 
the  puppy-tickets,  taken  in  hand  by  their  father,  and  were, 
with  an  eloquence  that  seemed  meant  for  a  larger  audience, 
made  acquainted  with  the  notable  objects  of  the  house. 

"  If  I  could  get  hold  of  your  mother,  now,"  the  Big  Doctor 
would  say,  "  I'd  hke  her  to  see  this,"  or  "  Look  at  that  picture, 
Tishy  !  That's  a  lovely  woman  !  The  Major's  grand- 
mother, I  believe.  We'll  ask  Miss  Judith — 'pon  my  honour, 
it  might  have  been  done  of  herself !  " 

Miss  Judith,  with  a  fruit  and  flower  stall  near  the  portrait 
in  question,  coldly  admitted  the  relationship,  and  ignored 
the  question  of  the  likeness.  Judith  was  of  the  age  of  intoler- 
ance ;  moreover,  she  was  at  that  moment  in  the  act  of  selling 
a  button-hole  to  Bill  Kirby,  and  the  Doctor's  enthusiasm 
was  undesired. 

The  little  family  party  moved  on,  while  Dr.  Mangan,  with 
the  ease  of  an  habitue,  indicated  to  his  son  and  daughter  the 
ancestral  portraits  in  the  dining-room,  the  Cromwellian 
arms  on  the  staircase,  the  coats-of-arms,  the  Indian  weapons, 
the  foxes'  masks  in  the  hall.  The  son  and  daughter  received 
the  information  coldly.  It  was  their  first  introduction  to 
the  interior  of  Mount  Music,  and  while  Tishy  was  filled  with 
a  great  resolve  to  be  impressed  by  nothing,  Barty  was  silenced 
by  those  tortures  that  unfamiliar  surroundings  have  power 
to  inflict  upon  the  shy. 

In  his  determination  to  instruct  his  young  in  all  the  possible 
objects  of  interest.  Dr.  Mangan  strolled  away  from  the 
crowded  scene  of  the  sale,  and  led  them  down  the  long  passage, 
dedicated  to  sporting  prints,  that  led  to  the  library. 

*'  There's  a  picture  there  that's  worth  seeing,  of  a  Meet  at 
Coppinger's  Court  in  the  time  of  Larry's  grandfather,"  he 
announced  impressively,  as  he  opened  the  door.  *'  The 
Talbot-Lowrys  and  the  Coppingers  were  always  fine  sports- 
men  " 


MOUNT   MUSIC  87 

A  tall  old  screen  stood  between  the  door  and  the  fireplace  ; 
from  behind  it  a  hunted  voice  said  : 

"  Who  the  devil's  there  now  ?  " 

Dr.  Mangan  thought,  complacently  :  **  My  diagnosis  was 
correct  !  "  Aloud  he  said  to  his  son  and  daughter,  in  a  tone 
of  hoarse  consternation  :  **  To  think  of  our  blundering  in 
on  the  Major  like  this  !   Here  !     Away  now,  the  pair  of  you  !  " 

He  advanced  from  behind  the  screen. 

**  Major  !  My  most  humble  apologies  !  I  never  thought 
of  you  being' here  !  I  was  showing  that  boy  and  girl  of  mine 
some  of  your  beautiful  things." 

Major  Talbot-Lowry  was  unlike  his  daughter  Judith  in 
many  things,  and  not  least  in  his  easy  sufferance  of  those 
whom  she,  in  youthful  arrogance,  called  cads. 

**  Come  in,  Doctor,  and  have  a  cigar  in  peace,"  he  said, 
hospitably,  putting  on  one  side  the  novel  he  was  reading. 
**  I  thought  you  were  Evans,  or  one  of  the  maids,  coming  to 
bother  me.  This^damned  show  has  turned  the  house  upside 
down  !  " 

"  Well,  it  seems  a  great  success,"  said  Dr.  Mangan 
cordially. 

*'  Very  good  of  you  to  come,"  responded  his  host,  **  more 
especially  when  it's — er — it's — er — such  a  purely  local 
affair " 

Dr.  Mangan  understood  that  he  was  receiving  the  meed  of 
religious  tolerance. 

*'  Well,  Major,"  he  said,  expansively,  **  I  lived  long  enough 
one  time  in  England  to  learn  that  we  mustn't  give  in  too  much 
to  the  clerical  gentlemen  !  My  own  instinct  is  to  be 
neighbourly,  and  to  let  my  friends  mind  their  own  religion." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so,"  said  Major  Dick,  magnanimously, 
forgetting,  for  the  moment,  those  epithets  that,  in  his  more 
heated  moments,  he  was  accustomed  to  apply  to  the  ministers 
of  the  Church  to  which  he  did  not  belong.  **  Quite  so, 
Doctor.  Em  all  for  toleration,  and  let  the  parsons  fight  it 
out  among  'em  !  Busy  men,  like  you  and  me,  haven't  time 
to  worry  about  these  affairs — we've  other  things  to  think 
about  !  "  He  stretched  a  long  arm  for  a  box  of  cigars,  and 
handed  it  to  his  visitor  ;  *'  sit  down  for  a  bit.  There's  no 
hurry.  The  ladies  can  have  it  all  their  own  way  for  a  while  !  " 
Dr.  Mangan  lowered  his  huge  person  into  an  armchair  of 


S8  MOUNT   MUSIC 

suitable  proportions,  and  for  some  moments  smoked  his 
cigar  in  appreciative  silence.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was 
planning  an  approach  to  the  subject  that  had  instigated  his 
visit  to  the  library,  but  he  was  in  no  hurry  to  begin  upon  it, 
remembering  that  the  longest  way  round  is  often  the  shortest 
way  home. 

"  By  the  way.  Major,"  he  said,  taking  the  cigar  from  his 
mouth,  and  regarding  it  with  affection,  "  did  some  one  tell 
me  that  you  were  looking  for  a  farming  horse  ?  " 

"  If  they  didn't,  they  might  have,"  replied  Dick. 
•*  McKinnon's  at  me  to  get  another.  I  was  going  to  ask  you 
if  you  knew  of  anything  ?  " 

*'  Well  now,  that's  funny.  I  was  wondering  to  myself  this 
morning  what  I'd  do  with  that  big  brown  horse  of  mine. 
He'll  not  go  hunting  again,  he  never  got  the  better  of  that 
hurt  he  got.  But  he's  the  very  cut  of  a  farm-horse.  You 
see,  the  poor  devil  had  to  carry  me  !  "  ended  the  Big  Doctor, 
with  a  laugh  at  himself. 

*'  I'll  tell  McKinnon  of  him.  He  wants  a  horse  that  will — " 
a  recital  of  the  accomplishments  exacted  by  Dick's  steward 
followed. 

Dr.  Mangan  listened  with  attention. 

*'  Tell  McKinnon  he'd  better  have  him  over  on  trial.  I  know 
him  and  his  requirements  !  The  horse  mightn't  be  able  to 
play  the  piano  for  him  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  facetiously.  "I'm 
not  afraid  of  yoUj  Major,  but  I've  a  great  respect  for  Mr. 
McKinnon  !  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  old  Mack  he'll  be  lucky  to  get  him,"  said 
Dick,  with  his  pleasant  laugh  ;  "  you  and  I  will  strike  the 
bargain  !  " 

The  approach  had  been  pegged  out,  and  Dr.  Mangan 
turned,  for  the  moment,  to  other  subjects. 

It  was  a  damp  and  sodden  day  near  the  beginning  of 
September,  and  a  comfortable  turf  fire  centralised  and  gave 
point  to  the  room,  as  a  fire  inevitably  does.  Major  Talbot- 
Lowry  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  that  the  day  of  the  month 
never  warmed  anybody  yet,  and  if  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of 
the  books — the  truth  being  that  the  library  fire  at  Mount  Music 
had  never,  in  the  memory  of  housemaid,  been  extinguished 
save  only  when  "  the  Major  was  out  of  home."  Dick,  like 
most  out-of-door  men,  considered  that  fresh  air  should  be 


MOUNT   MUSIC  89 

kept  in  its  proper  place,  outside  the  walls  of  the  house,  and 
an  ancient  atmosphere,  in  which  the  varied  scents  of  turf, 
tobacco,  old  books,  and  old  hound-couples,  all  had  their 
share,  filled  the  large,  dingy  old  room.  Dusty  and  composite 
squirrel-hoards  of  objects  that  defy  classification,  covered 
outlying  tables,  and  lay  in  heaps  on  the  floor,  awaiting  that 
resurrection  to  useful  life  that  Major  Talbot-Lowry's  faith 
held  would  some  day  be  theirs,  and  were,  in  the  meantime, 
the  despair  and  demoralisation  of  housemaids. 

Deep  in  the  bearskin  rug  in  front  of  the  fire  (a  trophy  of 
one  of  the  rifles  that  filled  a  glass-fronted  case  over  the  mantel- 
shelf) lay  the  two  little  fox-terriers,  Rinka  and  Tashpy,  in 
moody  and  determined  repose.  For  a  brief  period  of  suffer- 
ing they  had  attempted  to  cleave  to  Christian  ;  but  as  the 
throng  grew,  and  the  time  for  tea  lingered,  they  had,  in  high 
offence,  betaken  themselves  to  their  ultimate  citadel,  the 
library. 

**  I  suppose  it  was  her  pup  I  was  raffling  awhile  ago," 
remarked  Dr.  Mangan,  presently,  as  Rinka  languidly  rose, 
and  having  stretched  herself,  and  yawned,  musically  and 
meretriciously,  put  her  nose  on  his  broad  knee,  deliberating 
as  to  whether  the  distinction  of  a  human  lap  outweighed  the 
lowly  comfort  of  the  bearskin. 

"  Doggie  !  Poor  doggie  !  Down,  now,  down  !  "  Dr. 
Mangan  had  no  idea  how  to  talk  to  dogs,  and  he  did  not  wish 
Rinka  to  sit  on  his  best  grey  trousers. 

"  Hit  her  a  smack  !  "  said  Major  Dick  ;  "don't  let  her 
bother  you.  Christian  has  spoilt  these  dogs  till  they're 
perfect  nuisances  !  Yes,  it's  her  pup.  Who  won  it  ?  It 
ought  to  be  a  clinker  ;   it  was  the  best  of  the  lot " 

'*  I  d'no  did  they  draw  for  it  yet.  I  took  three  tickets  for 
it  myself  "  said  the  Doctor.  "  I  want  it  for  a  sort  of  a  cousin 
of  me  own — a  very  sporting  chap  that's  coming  to  Cluhir  ; 
he  asked  me  could  I  get  him  a  dog." 

"  What's  he  going  to  do  in  Cluhir  }  "  asked  Dick,  carelessly. 

The  approach  was  now  clear,  and  Dr.  Mangan  began  to 
advance. 

"  Well,  he's  just  taken  his  degree.  He's  a  doctor,  and  he's 
coming  here  for  a  while.  He  can  give  me  a  help  while  he's 
looking  out  for  a  dispensary.  He'd  like  some  place  where 
he'd  get  a  little  hunting  now  and  then.     I  expect  you  know 


90  MOUNT   MUSIC 

his  father,  Major — old  Tom  Aherne,  of  Pribawn " 

Major  Talbot-Lowry  became  more  interested. 

"  You  don't  say  old  Tom's  son  is  a  doctor  !     By  Jove 
That's  very  creditable  to  him — a  decent  old  fellow  Tom  was — 
and   you   say   he   wants   to   hunt  ?     That's  the  right  sort  of 
doctor  !     Look  here  !  " 

Dick  sat  up,  the  light  of  inspiration  woke  in  his  ingenuous 
blue  eyes,  he  wrinkled  his  forehead  with  the  super-intelligent 
concentration  of  a  not  very  brilliant  intellect.  **  Didn't  I 
hear  that  old  Fogarty  is  giving  up  the  Dispensary  here? 
Why  don't  you  run  him  for  that  ?  " 

The  shepherding  of  Dick  Lowry  was  really  an  affair  of  a 
simplicity  unworthy  the  preparation  made  by  that  ruse  old 
collie,  the  Big  Doctor.  Nevertheless,  being  an  artist,  he 
continued  to  play  the  game. 

"  Knock  Ceoil  !  Begad,  that's  a  great  notion  !  Now 
I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  did  hear  something  of  old  Fogarty 
giving  up,  but  somehow  I  never  thought  of  young  Danny 
Aherne  in  connection  with  it.  I  thought  I  was  as  well  able 
as  any  man  to  put  two  and  two  together,  but  I  declare  I 
might  never  have  thought  of  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I 
They  say,  if  you're  too  close  to  a  thing,  you  can't  see  it  '  " 

Thus  did  the  collie  yap,  while  the  sheep  (who  was  a  member 
of  the  Dispensary  Committee)  gratified,  and  pleasantly  con- 
scious of  originality,  trotted  up  the  path  and  into  the  fold  that 
had  been  prepared  for  it. 

Meanwhile,  in  what  house-agents  call  the  reception- 
rooms,  the  Sale  of  Work  raged  on,  with  auctions,  with  raffles, 
with  card-fortunes,  told  in  a  cave  of  rugs  by  a  devoted 
sorceress,  in  a  temperature  that  would  inure  her  to  face  with 
composure  the  witch's  destiny  at  the  stake  ;  with  "  occasional 
music,"  that  fell  upon  the  turmoil  of  talk  more  softly  than  any 
petals  from  blown  roses  on  the  grass,  and  was  just 
sufficiently  perceptible  to  impart  the  requisite  flavour  of 
festivity.  One  item  of  the  musical  programme  had  indeed 
had  power  to  still  the  storm,  but  since  it  was  contributed 
by  the  Mangan  Quartet,  it  must  be  admitted  that,  charming 
though  it  was,  it  owed  something  of  its  success  to  surprise. 
The  countryside  had  rallied  to  Lady  Isabel  with  a  response 
that  did  credit  to  her  as  to  them,  yet,  thronged  though  the 
rooms    were    the    Mangan    family    shone  with    a  unique 


MOUNT   MUSIC  91 

lustre  as  alone  representing  the  mighty  Church  of  Rome. 

"  Wonderful  of  them  to  come  !  "  said  the  Church  of  Ireland 
ladies  approvingly  ;  "  the  only  R.C.'s  here  !  " 

Yet  the  Mangan  family  was  not  quite  alone  in  this  repre- 
sentative position  ;  young  Mr.  Coppinger,  their  (as  it  were) 
inventor  and  patentee,  shared  it  with  them,  and  was,  more- 
over, beginning,  for  the  first  time,  and  not  without  displeasure, 
to  realise  something  of  the  social  complications  that  are 
involved  by  the  difference  of  creed.  It  was  a  matter  of 
atmosphere  ;  quite  intangible,  and  quite  perceptible.  Larry 
was  discovering  that  he  was  something  of  an  anomaly.  "  Only 
an  R.C.  by  accident,"  as  he  had  heard  someone  say,  in 
apparent  extenuation  (a  benevolence  that  he  found  irritating). 
He  was  learning  the  meaning  of  the  sudden  silences,  the  too 
obvious  changes  of  the  course  of  conversation,  that  seemed  to 
occur  when  he  drew  near.  He  had  not,  as  yet,  formulated 
these  things  to  himself,  but,  on  this  turbulent  afternoon, 
it  was  possibly  some  livelier  apprehension  of  them,  that 
made  him  gravitate  towards  Barty  Mangan,  as  towards  a 
fellow  pariah,  and  induced  him  to  seek  with  him  the 
far  asylum  of  the  schoolroom.  There,  save  for  the  school- 
room cat,  they  were  alone,  and  they  sat  for  some  minutes 
in  grateful  silence,  looking  out,  across  misty  stretches 
of  grass,  to  the  river,  and  beyond  it  to  the  dense  green 
of  the  trees  of  Coppinger 's  Court.  The  sky  was  very 
low  and  grey  ;  by  leaning  out  of  the  window  a  little,  a  far- 
off  reach  of  river,  at  the  western  end  of  the  valley,  could  be 
descried  ;  above  it  there  was  a  narrow  slit  in  the  clouds, 
and  through  it  a  faint  and  lovely  primrose  light  fell,  like  a 
veil,  that  hid,  while  it  told  of  the  deathbed  repentance  of 
the  dying  day.  Larry  dragged  his  chair  into  the  corner  of 
the  window,  and  watched  the  growing  glory  of  the  sunset 
with  all  his  ardent  soul  in  his  eyes. 

Whatever  this  boy  did,  he  did  vividly,  and  to  Barty  Mangan, 
seated  on  the  shadow  side,  watching  him,  he  was,  as  ever,  a 
pageant,  a  being  of  incalculable  impulse,  of  flashing  intensity 
and  splendour. 

"  Where  on  earth  did  you  go,  Barty  ?  I  looked  about  for 
you  for  ages  before  I  found  you  ;  but  there  was  such  an  awful 
crowd  of  women — I'm  jolly  glad  to  get  out  ot  it  !  "  Larry 
leaned    back    in    his    chair     and    proceeded    to    light    a 


92  MOUNT   MUSIC 

cigarette,  as  an  assertion  of  the  rights  of  a  man  of  nearly 
seventeen. 

"  My  father  was  taking  Tishy  and  me  about,  showing  us 
the  house,"  repHed  Barty,  apologetically.  (As  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  said  "  me  fawther,"  but  if  this,  and  similar  details  of 
pronunciation,  are  not  known  by  nature,  it  is  labour  in  vain 
to  attempt  to  indicate  them  by  means  of  the  wholly  inadequate 
English  alphabet.)  "  Larry,"  he  went  on,  with  the  candour 
that  made  a  gentleman  of  him,  *'  I  never  was  in  a  house  like 
this  before.  I  declare  to  you  it  frightens  me  !  I  feel  like  a 
rat  gone  astray  !  I  was  in  the  dining-room  by  myself,  looking 
at  the  pictures,  and  that  old  fella'  of  a  butler  came  in  and 
frightened  the  heels  off  me  !  He  kept  an  eye  on  me  that  was 
like  a  flame  from  a  blow-pipe  !  You'd  say  he  thought  I 
was  going  to  steal  the  house  '  " 

*'  I  expect  he  did,  too,"  said  Larry,  "  especially  if  he  thought 
that  you  were  a  pal  of  mine.  He  hates  me  like  blazes.  He*s 
one  of  those  damned  Orangemen.  I  say,  do  you  remember 
that  thing  in  The  Spirit  of  the  Nation,  *  Orange  and  Green 
will  carry  the  Day  *  ?  I  bet  old  Evans  would  rather  lose, 
any  day,  than  be  '  linked  in  his  might  *  with  a  Papist  like  you 
or  me  !  It's  a  most  extraordinary  thing  how  religion  plays 
the  devil  with  Ireland  !  " 

There  are  certain  standard  truisms  that  must  be  redis- 
covered by  each  successive  generation  (possibly  because 
they  have  bored  the  preceding  one  to  extinction),  and  Larry 
was  of  the  age  at  which  truisms  reveal  themselves  as  new 
ideas,  and  sing  and  shine  with  the  radiancy  of  morning  stars. 
He  was  also  young  enough,  and  just  sufficiently  interested  in 
religion,  to  find  it  exciting  to  denounce  it.  The  fervour  of 
his  indictment  lifted  him  from  his  chair,  and  he  stood,  with 
the  evening  light  on  his  hot  face,  enjoying  his  theme,  and  his 
audience. 

"  I  stayed  with  some  people  in  England  last  holidays, 
friends  of  my  people's  ;  Protestants  they  were,  too — '  Sour- 
faces,'  as  the  *  Leader  '  calls  them  ! — and  they  didn't  give  a 
blow  what  religion  I  was  !  That  was  my  affair,  they  thought 
— and  so  it  was,  too  !  Not  like  this  crowd  here — I  don't 
mean  my  own  people,  you  know,'*  he  added  hastily,  "  they're 
all  right  !  " 

*'  Oh,  I'm  sure  !  "  said  Barty,  in  instant  assent. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  93 

"  I  hate  England,  of  course,"  continued  the  student  of 
The  Spirit  of  the  Nation,  hurriedly,  "  but  I  must  say  I 
get  sick  of  this  eternal  blackguarding  of  Catholics  by 
Protestants,  and  Protestants  by  Catholics " 

"  Ah,  they  don't  mean  it  half  the  time  !  "  put  in  Barty, 
pacifically  ;  "  it's  just  a  trick  they  have  !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  !  "  said  Larry,  who  didn't  like  being 
interrupted,  with  a  fling  of  his  head  ;  **  they  shouldn't  do  it  ! 
I  hear  people  shutting  up  when  I  come  into  the  room — ^just 
as  if  I  didn't  jolly  well  know  they  were  abusing  the  priests  or 
something  like  that.  And  if  they  only  knew  it,  /  don't  care 
a  curse  how  much  they  abuse  them  !  " 

He  took  an  angry  pull  at  his  cigarette,  glaring  at  the 
unoffending  Barty.  "  *  'Tis'nt  the  man  I  respects,  'tis  the 
office  !  '  That's  what  Mrs.  Twomey  said,  when  I  was  chaffing 
her  for  dragging  gravel  up  from  the  river  to  put  in  front  of 
her  house,  because  the  priest,  whom  she  loathes,  was  going 
to  have  a  *  station  '  there  !  " 

The  orator  paused  for  breath,  as  well  as  for  the  duty  of 
keeping  his  cigarette  alight. 

"  Well,  and  isn't  she  quite  right,  too  ?  "  said  Barty.  "  I've 
no  great  fancy  for  Father  Greer,  but  that  doesn't  affect  my 
feeling  for  the  Church." 

He  rose,  and  resting  his  elbows  on  the  window-sill,  leaned 
out  into  the  still  air. 

"  By  Jingo  !  You  don't  often  see  the  beat  o'  that  for  a 
sky  !  Look  at  it,  Larry.  There's  Orange  and  Green  for 
you,  if  you  hke  !  God  !  I  wish  we  could  get  them  to  work 
together  like  that  !  " 

One  of  those  transformation  scenes  that  sometimes  follow 
on  an  overcast  and  rainy  day,  was  happening  in  the  west. 
The  sun  had  sunk  behind  the  hills,  the  grey  clouds  had 
vanished  ;  the  higher  heaven  was  green,  clear  and  pale, 
but  low  in  the  west,  long  and  fleecy  rollers  of  golden  cloud 
lay  in  a  sea  of  burning  orange. 

At  about  the  same  time,  the  golden  stream  that  had  flowed 
so  generously  from  Mrs.  Mangan's  purse,  had  failed,  and  Mrs. 
Mangan,  her  arms  full  of  the  fruit  of  those  Christian  graces  of 
Faith,  Hope  and  Charity,  that  are  indispensable  to  the  success 
of  a  bazaar,  was  asking  Evans  to  order  for  her  her  '*  caw,"  by 


94 


MOUNT    MUSIC 


which  term  she  indicated  the  vehicle  that  had  conveyed  her 
to  the  scene  of  her  triumph. 

For  it  was  evident  to  the  meanest  capacity  that  Mrs.  Mangan 
had  now  paid  her  footing  in  society. 


I 


CHAPTER   XIV 

*'  Go  away  from  me,  Miss  Christian  !  "  shouted  Mrs.  Twomey 
(but  this  was  merely  an  ejaculation  of  pleased  surprise,  not 
to  be  taken  literally).     "  Go-to-God-he-did-not  !  " 

*'  He  did,  indeed,  Mrs.  Twomey  !  "  repHed  Christian, 
rooting  at  her  habit  pocket,  and  extracting  her  purse.  **  He 
said  that  he'd  won  the  scholarship,  and  he  knew  you  were 
praying  hard  for  him  or  he  wouldn't  have  got  it,  and  he  said 
I  was  to  give  you  this,  with  his  love." 

**  This  "  was  a  golden  sovereign,  a  coin  that  did  not  often 
in  its  beauty  and  entirety  come  Mrs.  Twomey's  way. 

She  curtseyed  so  low  that  since — as  has  been  said — she 
was  but  little  over  four  feet,  Christian  had  to  lean  low  over 
Harry's  withers  in  order  to  drop  the  sovereign  into  her  hand. 

"  That  the  sun  may  shine  on  his  soul,  my  lovely  gentleman  ! 
That  he  may  never  want  crown,  pown',  nor  shi'n,  nor  you 
nayther  !  The  Kingdom  o'  Heaven  is  your  due,  the  pair 
of  yee,  and  may  yee  be  long  going  there  !     Amin  !  " 

A  silent  and  prayerful  moment  followed  on  the  benedic- 
tions, and  Mrs.  Twomey's  bright  little  eyes  rolled  devoutly 
heavenwards.  This  concession  to  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion  disposed  of,  the  beneficiary  became  normal  again. 

"  Look  !  "  she  resumed,  while  she  bestowed  the  sovereign 
in  an  incredibly  old  bag-purse  with  a  brass  rim  ;  "  tell  him 
there's  always  one  foolish  in  a  family,  and  what  it  is  with 
Masther  Larry,  he's  too  give-ish  !     That  s  what  he  is  !  " 

"  You  can  tell  him  so  yourself,"  replied  Christian.  "  He'll 
be  home  in  a  week." 

"  Very  good,  faith  !  There's  a  welcome  before  him  what- 
ever time  he'll  come  !  Sure  I  thought  he'd  be  kept  back  in 
England  till  the  Christmas  }  " 

"  He's  finished  with  school  now,"  said  Christian,  '  He  s 
going  abroad  for  a  bit  after  Christmas,  and  then  he's  going  to 
Oxford  !  "  ^      ^ 

95 


96  MOUNT   MUSIC 

The  glory  in  Christian's  voice  conveyed  more  to  Mrs. 
Twomey  than, any  statement  of  fact  could  achieve. 

"  Well,  weli  !  I'm  proud  out  of  him,  the  poor  child  ! 
But  I  wisht  it  was  home  in  his  own  house  he  was  to  be,"  she 
replied,  raising  her  skirt,  and  stuffing  the  purse  into  a  large 
pocket  that  hung  round  her  waist  over  a  red  flannel  petticoat  ; 
*'  ha  n't  he  lessons  enought  learnt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  he  loves  going  to  Oxford,  Mrs.  Twomey,"  said 
Christian  ;  '*  he's  looking  forward  to  it  awfully  ;  and  Fm 
going  to  France  to  do  lessons,  too  !  I'll  be  talking  French  to 
you,  Mrs.  Twomey,  when  I  come  back  ! " 

Mrs.  Twomey  uttered  a  screech  of  well-simulated  horror. 

"  For  God's  sake,  child,  do  not  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  didn't 
I  know  one  o'  thim  in  Boyshton,  a  docthor  he  was,  and  a 
German.  He  had  as  many  slishes  and  sloshes  as'd  fill  a 
book  !  Sure  I  thought  I'd  lose  me  life  thrying  could  I  make 
off  at  all  what  he  said  to  me  !  " 

"  Well,  I  shall  be  slishing  and  sloshing  to  you  when  I 
come  home,  Mrs.  Twomey  !  "  said  Christian,  who  was  skilled 
in  converse  with  such  as  Mrs.  Twomey  ;  "  but  it  will  be 
in  French.     I  suppose  you  talked  German  to  your  Boston 

doctor  ?  "  ,  .     ,     T 

"  H'th  indeed  !  Little  enough  I  said  to  him  !  1  never 
had  anny  wish  for  thim  docthors  at  all.  Look  at  the  little 
rakeen  that's  after  gettin'  the  Dispinsary  at  Cunnock-a-Ceoil ! 
Three  hundred  pound  the  father  ped  for  it  for  him  !  A  low, 
hungry  little  fella,  that'd  thravel  the  counthry  for  the  sake  of 
a  ha'penny — God  !  "  j  .      u     i 

The  flow  of  Mrs.  Twomey 's  eloquence  ceased  in  shock,  as 
Major  Talbot-Lowry  and  Miss  Coppinger  emerged  from  the 
dairy  behind  her. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  said  Dick,  "  who  is  it  who  s  so  hard  up 
for  ha'pence  ?  " 

Mrs.  Twomey 's  equanimity  was  not  slow  to  re-establisti 
itself.  She  and  the  Major  were  ''  the  one  age,"  and  they  had 
grown  up  together.  ,,        ,  n  • » 

''  Why  then,  your  Honour  knows  him  weU,  and  too  well ! 
she  snapped  at  him,  looking  up  his  long  length  to  his  hand- 
some, good  natured  face,  much  as  a  minute  female  cur- 
dog  might  look  and  snap,  presuming  on  her  sex,  at  a  Great 
Dane.  "  It's  the  new  little  docthor,  Danny  Aherne,  that 
your  Honour  is  afther  putting  in  the  Dispinsary  !  " 


MOUNT   MUSIC  97 

"  Oh,  that  poor  little  fellow  ?  "  said  Dick,  laughing,  but 
with  a  touch  of  discomposure  ;  "  /  didn't  put  him  there. 
What's  the  matter  with  him,  any  how  ?  Why,  he  hasn't 
been  at  the  job  three  months  !  Give  the  man  time,  Mary, 
give  him  time  !  I'll  engage  you'll  all  be  in  love  with  him 
by  this  time  next  year  !  " 

Mrs.  Twomey  glanced  at  Miss  Coppinger,  and  replied  with 
decorous  piety  : 

"  God  grant  it  !  " 

She  then,  with  an  admirable  assumption  of  respect  for  her 
superiors,  and  zeal  for  her  office,  moved  past  her  visitors  into 
the  dairy. 

Dick  Talbot-Lowry  hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  then  he 
laughed  again  and  strode  after  her  into  the  dark  dairy  ;  Miss 
Coppinger  followed  him.  Mrs.  Twomey,  a  tiny  and  almost 
imperceptible  bundle,  was  already  on  her  knees  in  a  corner, 
scrubbing  a  glistening  metal  churn,  and  so  engrossed  in  her 
task  as  to  be  unaware  of  her  visitors. 

**  Look  here,  Mary,"  began  the  Major,  with  a  touch  of 
severity  ;   "  what's  all  this  about  Doctor  Aherne  }  " 

Mrs.  Twomey  rose  from  her  knees,  dried  her  little  scarlet 
claws  in  her  apron,  and  stood  to  attention.  Having  opened 
the  debate  by  calling  fervently  upon  her  God  to  witness  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  she  proceeded,  like  a  solo 
pianist,  to  run  her  fingers,  as  it  were,  lightly  over  the  keys. 
Passing  swiftly  from  her  own  birth,  upbringing,  invincible 
respectability,  and  remoteness  from  all  neighbours,  or  know- 
ledge of  neighbours,  she  coruscated  in  a  cadenza  in  which 
the  families  of  Talbot-Lowry  and  Coppinger,  and  her  devotion 
to  both,  were  dazzlingly  blended,  and  finished  in  a  grand  chord 
on  the  apparently  irrelevant  fact  that  she  would  die  dead 
before  she  would  put  down  any  dirty  stain  before  the  Major's 
honour. 

*'  But  Mary,"  interposed  Frederica,  with  an  inartistic 
directness  that  was  in  painful  contrast  to  the  cadenza,  "  what 
has  the  Major  got  to  say  to  Doctor  Aherne  ?  " 

The  question  was  ignored  ;  the  artist  dashed  on  into  a 
presto  movement,  in  which,  as  far  as  any  direct  theme  was 
discernible,  Dr.  Mangan,  his  cupidity,  his  riches,  the  riches 
of  Dr.  Aherne 's  parents  were  the  leading  motives.  Also, 
parenthetically,    that    Danny  Aherne    was  without  shoe  or 


98  MOUNT   MUSIC 

stocking  to  his  foot  when  he  was  going  to  school  in  Pribawn 
with  her  own  poor  Httle  boy.  "  And  look  at  him  now  !  " 
continued  Mrs.  Twomey,  on  a  high  reciting  note,  and  still 
presto,  "  with  his  car  and  his  horse,  and  his  coat  with  an  owld 
cat  skin  for  a  collar  on  it,  and  his  Tommy-shirts  without 
tails  !  " 

There  was  an  instant  of  pause,  and  Frederica  breathed  the 
words  ''  *  Dicky  '  shirt-fronts  !  "  to  her  bewildered  cousin. 

*'  Himself  and  the  Big  Docthor  walking  the  streets  of  Cluhir 
like  two  paycocks  !  "  went  on  Mrs.  Twomey  with  ever- 
increasing  speed  and  fury.  "  Ha  !  Ha  !  Didn't  I  meet 
him  back  in  Pribawn  ere  yistherday.  *  How  great  you  are 
in  yourself !  '  says  I  to  him.  *  It  done  you  no  harm  to  kill 
a  woman !  '  says  I.  *  Mind  your  own  business  !  '  says  he  to 
me.  *  Throth  then,  an'  I  will  mind  it  !  '  says  I,  *  an'  I'll 
have  plenty  to  mind  it  without  you  !  I'll  have  plenty  to 
mind  it  without  yourself  !     Dannileen  alay  !  ' " 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  Dick  broke  in 
impatiently. 

Mrs.  Twomey  flung  a  glance  to  the  doorway.  Christian 
was  no  longer  there.  On  a  lower  key,  and  directed  to  Miss 
Coppinger,  a  fresh  stream  flowed.  A  young  woman  had  died  ; 
a  young  woman  who  had  been  privileged  to  marry  a  relative, 
of  a  degree  of  relationship  obscure,  but  still  honoured,  of 
Mikey  Twomey's  ;  *'  and  she  afther  having  a  young  son, 
and  the  boy  that  marrit  her  as  proud  ! — and  a  very  good  baby, 
and  what  misfortune  came  to  her  no  one'd  know,  only  the 
Lord  God  Almighty,  but  she  died  on  them.  And  she  a  fine, 
hard,  hearty,  blushy,  big  lump  of  a  gerr'l.  And  'tis  true 
what  they  said " 

The  details  that  followed  were  hissed,  prestissimo,  into  the 
ear  of  Miss  Coppinger,  but  that  Dr.  Aherne  was  to  be  blamed, 
was  made  as  clear  to  Dick  Talbot-Lowry  as  to  his  cousin. 

The  tale  was  concluded  in  tears. 

**  Look  !     I  has  to  cry  when  I  thinks  of  it  !  " 

It  is  impossible  with  Mrs.  Twomey,  and  her  like,  to  argue  a 
point,  or  to  attempt  an  appeal  to  reason.  A  flat  and  dicta- 
torial contradiction  may  have  some  temporary  effect,  and 
Major  Talbot-Lowry  adopted  this  method,  for  lack  of  better, 
in  defence  of  his  nominee.  Mrs.  Twomey,  however,  con- 
tinued to  weep. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  99 

*  But  Mary,"  urged  Fredrica,  *'  there  isn't  a  doctor  in 
the  world  who  doesn't  lose  a  patient  sometimes.  It  may 
not  have  been  this  unfortunate  young  man's  fault  in  the 
least " 

"  'Tisn't  that  I'm  crying  for  at  all,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Twomey, 
a  deplorable  Httle  figure,  her  head  bent  down,  while  she  wiped 
violently  and  alternately  her  nose  and  her  eyes  in  her 
sacking  apron.  "  But  it  is  what  the  people  is  sayin'  on  the 
roads  about"  (sob)  "  about  "  (sniff) 

"  About  what  ?  "  said  Dick,  who  was  being  bored. 

"  About  your  Honour  !  "  returned  Mrs.  Twomey,  in  a  sort 
of  roar. 

"  And  what  the  devil  are  they  saying  about  me  ?  " 

"  God  forbid  that  I'd  put  down  any  dirty  stain  before  your 
Honour,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Twomey,  recurring  to  her  earlier 
metaphor  ;  "  it's  that  big  horse  that  ye're  afther  buyin* 
from  Docthor  Mangan  ;  they  say  that  he  gave  him  to  ye  too 
cheap  on  the  head  of  it " 

"  On  the  head  of  what,  woman  ?  "  shouted  Dick,  now  pass- 
ing, by  the  well-worn  channel  of  anxiety,  from  boredom  to 
anger. 

"  On  the  head  of  the  Dispinsary  !  Sure  they  says  'twas 
your  Honour  gave  it  to  Danny  Aherne  !  " 

It  is  unnecessary  to  record  Major  Talbot-Lowry's  indigna- 
tion on  hearing  this  charge.  The  dairy,  with  its  low  ceiling 
and  paven  floor,  echoed,  submissively,  his  well-justified 
strictures  on  the  lies  and  evil  speaking  of  his  humbler  neigh- 
bours, and  Mrs.  Twomey  dried  her  eyes  (much  as  she  would 
scrub  out  one  of  her  milk-pans)  and  hearkened. 

Who  shall  say  if  she  believed  him  ?  There  is  a  standard  of 
honour,  rigid  and  stern,  for  gentlemen,  just  as  there  is  quite 
another  standard  for  those  who  do  not,  in  the  opinion  of  a 
people,  Austrian  in  their  definition  of  what  is  or  is  not  gentle 
birth,  merit  that  title.  Dick  Talbot-Low^ry  was  a  gentleman, 
and,  in  her  own  words,  no  "  dirty  stain  "  would  ever  be 
attributed  to  him  by  IVIary  Twomey,  but  even  she  knew  that 
the  ethics  of  buying  and  selling  a  horse  apply  to  no  other 
transaction,  and  she  knew  also  that  in  the  disposal  of  a 
*'  place,"  more  may  occur  than  meets  the  eye.  She  resented 
the  slur  on  her  chieftain,  but,  in  spite  of  her  wrath,  she  could 
not  feel  quite  certain  that  the  accusation  was  entirely 
unfounded. 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  town  of  Cluhir  had  more  features  than  those  that  have 
already  been  enumerated,  to  entitle  it  to  respect.  There 
was,  primarily,  the  great  river,  that  moved  majestically  in 
its  midst,  bearing  a  church,  impartially,  on  its  either  bank, 
and  hiding  and  nourishing  in  its  depths  the  salmon  that  gave 
the  town  its  reason  for  existence.  There  was  the  tall  and 
noble  bridge  that  spanned  the  river,  and  joined  the  rival 
churches  together  (a  feat  of  which  it  is  safe  to  say  no  other 
power  in  Ireland  was  capable).  It  was  made  of  that  blue- 
grey  limestone  that  builds  bridges,  and  churches,  and  horses, 
with  an  equal  success,  and  it  was  the  equivalent  of  a  profes- 
sion for  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town,  who  were 
accustomed  to  spend  long,  meditative  hours  upon  it,  criticising 
the  fishermen  on  the  bank  below,  watching  for  fish,  talking 
of  fish,  thinking  of  fish,  without  haste,  and  with  a  good  deal 
of  rest.  There  was  also  Hallinan's  Hotel,  that  was  very  far 
from  being  a  mere  country  hotel.  The  stately  bow-windows 
of  its  coffee-room  have  already  been  mentioned,  but  its  wide 
verandah  must  not  be  forgotten,  stone-paven,  glass-roofed, 
umbrageous  with  tropic  vegetation,  beneath  whose  shade, 
on  the  sunny  days  that  are  enjoyed  by  the  lesser  world  of 
men,  sad  anglers,  in  ancient  tweed  suits,  lolled,  broken- 
heartedly,  in  basket-chairs.  And,  finally,  on  the  town's 
highest  level,  was  The  Mall,  reserved,  dignified,  with  a  double 
row  of  great  beech-trees,  and  behind  them,  on  both  sides  of 
the  wide  roadway,  the  reserved  and  dignified  houses  of  the 
magnates  of  Cluhir.  Eminent  in  both  these  qualities  was 
No.  6  ;  almost  too  much  so,  Mrs.  Mangan  thought  sometimes. 
On  a  wet  day  she  would  say,  it  would  be  as  good  for  you  to  be 
in  the  Back  of  Beyond  itself,  as  here,  where  you  might  be 
flattening  your  nose  all  day  and  not  see  as  much  as  a  bike 
going  by. 

lOO 


MOUNT   MUSIC  loi 

Dr.  Mangan,  however,  fully  recognised  the  value  of  this 
seclusion.  His  surgery  was  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  its 
unbroken  quiet  was  grateful  to  a  man  who  had  much  to  do, 
and  plenty  to  think  of.  He  was  seated  in  it,  one  mild 
February  evening,  some  months  after  the  election  of  Dr. 
Aherne.  It  had  been  market-day  in  Cluhir  ;  patients  had 
been  many,  and  fees  satisfactory.  The  Doctor  reclined  in 
front  of  a  good  turf  and  wood  fire,  and  smoked  a  mellow 
pipe,  and  reviewed  the  run  of  events.  Danny  Aherne  had 
been  in,  to  speak  to  him  about  a  case,  that  afternoon,  and 
Dr.  Mangan's  thoughts  ran  back  to  that  little  affair  of  the 
Knock  Ceoil  Dispensary,  and  of  Major  Talbot-Lowry's 
part  in  the  matter.  Danny  had  just  nipped  in  before  the 
Local  Government  Bill  took  the  power  away  from  the  old 
Dispensary  Committees.  Dam'  lucky  for  Danny.  The 
Major  had  been  useful  enough.  It  hadn't  been  his  vote, 
so  much  as  his  influence,  that  had  got  the  boy  the  job.  The 
affair,  as  far  as  the  Doctor  was  concerned,  was  of  quite 
minor  importance,  but  it  had  been  useful  in  promoting  the 
feeling  of  intimacy  between  the  houses  of  Mangan  and 
Talbot-Lowry.  That  omniscient  composite  authority,  "  The 
people  on  the  roads,"  whose  views  had  been  quoted  by  Mrs. 
Twomey,  had  not  been  wrong  in  hinting  that  the  Doctor  had 
permitted  the  Major  to  have  the  best  of  the  bargain  about  the 
big  brown  horse.  Old  Tom  Aherne  had  made  it  well  worth 
his  while  to  do  so,  so  everyone  had  come  comfortably  out  of 
the  transaction.  Nor  had  Dr.  Mangan,  in  diagnosing  Major 
Talbot-Lowry,  been  wrong  in  his  assumption  that  Dick, 
generous,  and  elated  by  his  success  in  bargaining,  would  wish 
to  indemnify  his  opponent  for  having  had  the  worst  of  it, 
and  would  consider  the  support  of  Danny  Aherne  as  a  suit- 
able expression  of  the  wish. 

The  Big  Doctor's  intimacy  with  Dick  had  progressed  of 
late  with  remarkable  rapidity.  During  one  of  those  friendly 
talks  over  the  Mount  Music  library  fire,  that  had  latterly 
been  recurring  with  increasing  frequency,  an  opportunity 
had  arisen  for  the  Doctor — "  a  warm  man,"  as  has  been  said 
— to  offer  to  the  Major  a  tangible  proof  of  his  friendship. 

**  After  all,  there's  the  money  lying  idle  at  my  bank,'*  the 
Doctor  had  said,  breezily. 

Dick,  in  a  moment  of  irritation  and  perplexity,  had  ex- 


102  MOUNT   MUSIC 

patiated  on  the  expenses  consequent  on  launching  sons  into 
professions,  and  also  on  the  pig-headed  determination  of 
annuitants  to  "  hang  on,"  regardless  of  the  inconveniences 
occasioned  to  a  heavily-burdened  property  by  this  want  of 
consideration 

*'  Three  half-sisters  of  my  father's,"  says  Dick,  "  as  old  as 
three  men  each  of  'em,  and  not  a  notion  of  dying  among  'em  ! 
They'll  see  me  out,  I'll  swear  !  " 

It  was  then  that  that  idle  money  had  been  tactfully  referred 
to. 

"  I'll  knock  better  interest  out  of  you.  Major,  than  the 
bank'U  give  me  !  "  said  the  Big  Doctor,  jovially.  **  I  want  no 
security  from  you  !    Your  word " 

**  Oh,  that  will  never  do,  my  dear  fellow,"  Dick  had  replied, 
as  he  was  meant  to  reply.  "  Of  course  it  must  be  a  pukka 
business  deal.     I'll  give  you " 

In  his  relief,  Dick  was  ready  to  give  to  this  kind  William 
of  Deloraine  any  security  that  he  could  suggest.  It  was,  of 
course,  a  purely  nominal  affair — but  still — what  about  a 
mortgage  on  the  house  and  demesne  }     How  would  that  do  ? 

The  Doctor  thought  it  would  do  very  well. 

It  should  be  established,  while  it  was  still  possible  to  induce 
the  reader  to  accept  such  a  statement,  that  the  Big  Doctor 
was,  as  he  himself  might  have  said,  **  not  too  bad  a  fellow 
altogether  !  "  In  public  life,  a  fighter,  wily  and  skilled  ; 
compassionate  to  the  poor,  yet  exacting,  implacably,  practical 
recognition  of  his  compassion.  In  his  own  house,  easy- 
going and  autocratic  ;  in  his  Church,  a  slave  ;  a  confidential 
slave,  whose  gladiatorial  gifts  were  valued,  and  whose 
idiosyncracies  might  be  humoured,  but  none  the  less,  a  slave. 
He  was  like  an  elephant  in  his  hugeness,  and  suppleness, 
his  dangerousness,  and  his  gentleness.  His  head  was  not 
crowned  with  the  bald  benevolence  that  an  elephant  wears, 
but  seated  on  his  neck  was  a  mahout,  and  the  mahout  was 
Father  Greer,  the  Parish  Priest  of  Cluhir. 

Now,  on  this  quiet  evening,  he  sat  and  smoked  by  the  fire, 
and,  touching  "  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills,"  his  eager 
thought  paused  longest  on  the  note  that  stood  for  Tishy. 
Tishy  was,  in  her  own  way,  as  sound  an  asset  as  any  that  he 
possessed,    a    thoroughly    well-made    article,    a    right-down 


MOUNT    MUSIC  103 

handsome  girl,  the  Big  Doctor  thought  complacently,  good 
enough  for  any  position,  and  for  any  man. 

"  But  she's  not  for  any  man,  I  can  tell  them  !  "  thought 
Tishy's  father  ;  "  that's  just  where  the  difference  of  it  is  ! 
I'll  see  to  that,  you  make  take  your  oath  !  " 

Then  he  began  to  consider  his  son.  He  could  not  feel 
the  same  confidence  in  Barty  that  Tishy  inspired.  Where 
Barty  got  hold  of  all  his  dam-silly  notions  was  more  than 
anyone,  least  of  all  his  father,  could  imagine.  Nevertheless, 
they  had  had  their  uses,  and  might  still  justify  themselves 
**  in  a  sense,"  he  thought  ;  *'  if  not  in  one  way,  maybe  in 
another."  He  moved  on  to  his  wife.  How  could  she  con- 
tribute to  the  Great  Ideas  }  Ideas  were  not  much  in  her  line, 
but  if  you  told  her  what  to  do,  she'd  do  it.  After  all,  that  was 
the  main  thing.  Women's  own  notions  were  often  more 
bother  than  they  were  worth.  Poor  Annie  !  His  big  mouth, 
under  the  coarse  black  moustache,  spread  into  a  smile,  and 
his  blue-grey  eyes  smiled  with  it.  "I  was  a  fool  once  about 
her,  and  b'  Jove,  I  think  I'm  not  much  better  now  !  " 
he  said  to  himself,  indulgently.  The  handsomest  woman 
this  minute  in  the  barony,  and  she  had  never  so  much  as 
looked  crooked  at  any  man  since  the  day  he  married  her. 
After  all,  she  had  been  a  credit  at  that  Mount  Music  show. 
There  wasn't  a  woman  to  touch  her  in  the  place  ;  she  had 
held  her  own  with  them  ;  she  had  spent  his  money  as  he  had 
told  her  to  spend  it.  Like  a  lady.  '*  I  like  that  ;  how  much  ? 
Here's  your  money  !  "  That  was  what  he  had  told  her  to 
say,  and  she  had  said  it  all  right.  No  damned  huxterings. 
And  those  women  whom  he  wished  her  to  get  on  with,  she 
had  got  on  with.  They  liked  her.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  ; 
and  Lady  Isabel  had  often  come  in  to  see  her  since  the  show, 
and  had  stayed  for  tea,  as  friendly  as  you  please.  Annie  was 
all  right. 

The  gossip  of  Cluhir  had  been  as  mistaken  in  the  matter 
of  the  Mangans  as  gossip  often  is.  Francis  Mangan  had 
married  his  wife  for  the  entirely  injudicious  reason  that  her 
beauty  had  mastered  his  common  sense.  After  his  marriage 
his  common  sense,  having  regained  the  upper  hand,  was 
satisfied  that,  even  though  her 

**  Charms  were  to  change  by  to-morrow 
And  fleet  in  his  arms," 


104  MOUNT   MUSIC 

she  would  still  be  the  only  wife  in  the  world  for  him.  None 
the  less  he  did  not  pretend  indifference  to  the  knowledge 
that  his  wife  was  the  handsomest  woman  in  Cluhir,  and  there 
was,  indeed,  no  reason  why  he  should  do  so.  And  thus  the 
Big  Doctor  had  a  double  triumph. 

There  came  a  fumbling  tap  on  the  door,  it  opened  a  little, 
and  Hannah's  head  came  twisting  round  it. 

"  Docthor  !  "  spoke  the  head,  Hke  a  Teraph,  "  the  Misthress 
says  to  have  ye  come  in.  The  supper's  ready,  and  the  priest 
is  in  it." 

This  remarkable  statement  was  accepted  by  the  Doctor 
with  composure,  as  expressing  the  fact  that  Father  Greer 
had  arrived. 

*'  Tell  her  I'm  coming  this  minute,"  he  said,  rising  ponder- 
ously to  his  feet ;    "  say  to  them  to  go  down  without  me.'* 

He  locked  up  the  fees  that  were  lying  on  the  table,  being  a 
careful  man,  and  washed  his  huge,  pale  hands  with  the 
particularity  that  a  doctor  brings  to  that  task.  Huge  though 
they  were,  they  had  the  sensitiveness  that  is  the  gift  of  music, 
and  is  also  part  of  the  endowment  of  the  surgeon. 

"  Ah,  here  he  is  now  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  as  the  Doctor 
came,  enormously,  into  the  small  dining-room.  "  For 
shame  for  you,  Francis,  to  be  so  late." 

"  Ah,  don't  scold  him,  Mrs.  Mangan  !  "  said  the  priest 
simpering  conventionally.  "  Wasn't  it  ministering  to  the 
afflicted  that  delayed  him  !  Doctors  mustn't  be  subjected 
to  the  rules  that  bind  ordinary  people  !  " 

**  That's  right.  Father,"  said  the  Doctor,  beginning  to 
carve  a  large,  cold  goose,  with  the  skill  that  his  trade  bestows  ; 
"  stand  up  for  me  now  !  Don't  let  her  bully  me — though 
indeed  I  might  be  used  to  it  by  this  time  !  " 

"  Doesn't  he  look  like  it,  the  poor  fella  !  "  scoffed  Mrs. 
Mangan,  directing  a  melting  look  at  her  husband  ;  "  starved 
and  pairsecuted  !     That's  what  he  is  !  " 

Father  Greer  smiled  permissively  over  the  rim  of  his  glass 
of  whisky  and  water ;  it  was  strong  and  good,  and  the  food 
was  good  also,  and  abundant.  Mrs.  Mangan 's  suppers  were 
as  generous  as  her  own  contours,  and  were  noted  for  their 
excellence.  She  herself  was  not  so  much  to  the  priest's 
taste.  He  was  celibate  by  nature  as  well  as  by  profession. 
Women  were  antagonistic  to  him,  and  Mrs.  Mangan,  godly 


MOUNT   MUSIC  105 

matron  though  she  was,  seemed  to  him  to  symbolize  a  very 
different  ordering  of  Hfe  to  that  which  he  approved  ;  but  the 
Big  Doctor  was  an  asset  of  the  Church  who  must  be  simpered 
upon,  and  for  whose  sake  a  Httle  social  boredom  must  be 
unrepiningly  endured.  He  was  an  older  man,  by  a  good  many 
years,  than  the  Doctor,  and  was  nearer  sixty  than  fifty,  but 
his  figure  was  slight  and  active,  and  his  scant  hair  was  dark 
and  silky,  though  there  was  a  light  dust  of  grey  in  it  over  the 
ears,  which  were  thin  and  outstanding,  and  shared  with  his 
nostrils  and  eyelids  the  tinge  of  red  that  was  denied  to  the 
rest  of  his  face.  He  had  the  wide,  brains-carrying  forehead 
of  a  fox,  as  well  as  a  fox's  narrow  jaw,  but  his  eyes  were  small 
and  black,  and  as  quick  as  a  bird's. 

Barty  and  Tishy,  who  were  not  agreed  in  many  things,  were 
agreed  in  being  afraid  of  him.  They  sat  in  perfect  silence, 
while  their  mother  occupied  herself  with  directions  to  Hannah, 
who  hovered,  indeterminately,  near  the  door,  and  their  father 
discoursed  the  visitor.  Father  Greer  was  something  of  a 
traveller,  and  he  was  now  giving  an  instructive  account  of  a 
recent  visit  to  Switzerland,  and  of  the  "  winter  sports  "  that 
had  occupied  the  energies  of  all  in  the  hotel  save  himself. 

"  I  found  the  air  as  bracing  and  as  serviceable  to  me  as 
you  had  led  me  to  expect,"  he  said  to  his  host,  "  but  the 
sports  seemed  to  me  to  make  a  toil  of  pleasure,  and  the  dancing 
that  went  on  every  night — 'twas  impossible  to  sleep  !  Well  ! 
Youthful  frivolity,  I  suppose,  must  be  condoned,  but  I  may 
say  I  was  greatly  annoyed  at  an  incident  that  occurred  at  a 
neighbouring  hotel.  Mostly  English,  the  visitors  were,  and 
they  held  a  Protestant  service  on  Sunday  in  the  saller-mongy." 

Barty  looked  secretly  at  his  sister.  His  expression  said  : 
"  And  why  shouldn't  they  ?  " 

Father  Greer  ignored  the  look,  and  continued  his  recital : 
"  As  was  quite  right  and  proper  for  them  to  do." 

There  was  a  blink  of  the  black  eyes,  and  Barty  recognised 
that  he  had  not  been  unobserved. 

"  There  was  what  is  called  a  Reading-party  of  young  min, 
with  a  tutor,  at  the  hotel,"  went  on  the  priest.  "  Protestants 
they  were — so  far  as  they  had  any  religion — but  onlywunof 
them  attended  that  service.  It  was  said  he  was  the  wun  and 
only  person  able  to  play  the  piano  in  the  hotel.  Some 
English  ladies  requested  him  to  play — I  believe  there  was 


io6  MOUNT   MUSIC 

some  very  unsuitable  joking  about  it — and  he  consented. 
He  attended  that  service  ;  he  played  their  English  hymns," 
Father  Greer  paused,  and  gathered  up  the  table  v/ith  a  glance 
before  his  climax.  "  That  young  man,  I  regret  to  say,  was 
an  Irish  Catholic,  one  whom  you  all  know — young  Mr.  St. 
Lawrence  Coppinger  !  " 

Mrs.  Mangan,  who  had  been  too  much  harassed  by 
Hannah's  failure  to  decode  her  signals,  to  attend,  heard  the 
name  only,  and  said  lovingly  : 

*'  The  dear  boy  !  How  nice  for  him  and  you  to  meet  so 
far  away  from  home.  Father  !  " 

Barty's  satisfaction  at  his  mother's  unexpected  comment 
took  the  form  of  kicking  his  sister,  heavily.  Tishy,  who  sang 
in  the  chapel  choir,  and  was  at  this  time  inclined  to  regard 
herself  as  a  pillar  of  the  Church,  returned  the  kick  with  a 
viciousness  that  indicated  a  hostile  point  of  view,  and  said 
loftily  : 

*'  But  to  think  they'd  ask  him  !  The  Enghsh  are  very  lax. 
Don't  you  think  so.  Father  ?  " 

Dr.  Mangan  laughed  apologetically. 

**  Well,  it's  a  wonder  that  a  party  of  sheep  would  let  a 
poor  goat  into  their  fold  at  all  !  "  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  asked 
for  forgiveness  for  the  erring  goat.  **  I  suppose  the  young 
ladies  got  him  in  a  corner,  and  'twas  hard  for  him  to  refuse. 
You'd  hardly  blame  him  for  that  !  " 

Father  Greer  looked  bleakly  down  his  nose  and  said  nothing. 

Barty  scowled,  considering  that  his  hero  stood  in  no  need 
of  apology.  Dr.  Mangan  continued  his  endeavour  to  save 
the  situation. 

"  But  there's  no  understanding  of  Protestants  !  "  he 
resumed,  good-humouredly  ;  *'  I  met  an  old  fellow  on  the 
train  th'  other  day,  old  William  Henderson  of  Glen  Brickeen, 
and  he  was  telling  me  of  a  row  he  had  with  his  clergyman, 
the  Reverend  Wilson.  *  Oh,'  says  he,  *  I  gave  up  going  to 
church  on  head  of  the  it  !  *  *  And  isn't  that  a  great  sin  for 
you,'  says  I,  '  to  give  up  going  to  church  ?  '  '  Oh,'  says  he, 
*  I  explain  that  to  God  every  Saturday.  He  understands 
well  what  Mr.  Henderson  done  to  me,  and  why  I  wouldn't 
go  to  church  as  long  as  he  was  in  it.'  *  Maybe,'  said  I, 
funning  him,  *  some  day  he  might  be  before  you  in  Heaven 
with  his  story,  and  what'Il  you  do  then  ?  '     *  Oh  '  said  he, 


MOUNT   MUSIC  107 

I'll  make  out  a  place  for  myself,  never  fear  !  There's 
places  of  all  sorts  in  it  !  '  says  he.  *  I  suppose  it's  the  many 
mansions  you're  thinking  of !  '  said  I.  *  You  think  the  poor 
Roman  Catholics  don't  know  their  Bibles,  but  I  know  that 
much  !  '" 

**  Well,  Francis,"  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  admiringly,  *'  I 
never  knew  you  that  you'd  be  without  an  answer,  no  matter 
what  anyone 'd  say  to  you  !  *  Many  mansions,'  says  you  ! 
I  declare  I'd  never  have  thought  of  that  !  Father,  wouldn't 
you  say  he  answered  him  well  !  " 

Father  Greer,  having  made  his  point,  smiled  indulgently, 
and,  as  he  was  deeply  involved  in  a  mouthful  of  tough  goose, 
the  smile,  blended  with  the  act  of  mastication,  made  him 
look  more  than  ever  like  a  fox,  a  fox  in  a  trap,  gnashing  at 
his  captors. 

**  I  always  knew  the  Doctor  could  be  trusted  to  *  give  a 
knave  an  answer,'  as  Shakespeare  says,"  he  said,  when  the 
power  of  speech  was  restored  to  him  ;  *'  I'm  often  surprised 
at  the  liberty,  I  might  almost  say  the  licence,  that  is  met  with 
in  Protestants  in  connection  with  their  religion.  Take  the 
case  of  young  Mr.  Coppinger  that  I  was  speaking  of.  That 
was  a  melancholy  instance  of  evil  communications  corrupting 
good  manners.  I  may  say  that  I  regard  with  anxiety  a  too 
great  freedom,  what  I  may  call  an  unrestrained  intercourse, 
between  members  of  the  two  churches — that  is,  indeed,  if 
I  am  justified  in  describing  as  a  church  that  which  I  have  heard 
stigmatised  as  '  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atheistic  atoms  ' !  " 

Father  Greer's  nose  came  down  over  his  upper  lip,  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  went  up,  and  a  succession  of  sniffs 
indicated  that  he  was  laughing. 

*'  That  may  be  rather  severe,"  he  conceded,  "  but  I  may 
say  that,  for  my  part,  I  consider  that  Catholics  have  a 
sufficiency  of  pleasing  society  within  their  own  communion, 
without  striving  to  go  beyond  it  !  " 

Father  Greer  paused,  looked  round  the  table  as  if  to  receive 
the  general  assent,  and  put  his  sharp  nose  into  the  tumbler 
of  brown  whisky  and  water,  to  whose  replenishing  the  Doctor 
had  not  failed  to  attend. 

A  rather  stricken  silence  followed.  Mrs.  Mangan's  large 
and  handsome  brown  eyes  turned  guiltily  to  her  husband, 
and  moved  on  from  his  face  to  one  of  the  many  trophies  of 


io8  MOUNT   MUSIC 

the  Mount  Music  Sale,  a  Protestant  chair  back,  now  flaunting 
itself  on  a  CathoHc  chair,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  Parish 
Priest  ! 

Barty  glowered  at  his  plate  ;  Tishy,  who  had  not  enjoyed 
herself  at  the  Sale,  felt,  in  consequence,  that  she  was  now 
justified  in  doing  so  at  the  expense  of  her  family,  and  held  up 
her  head,  and  looked  at  her  father.  It  was  plain  to  see  that 
the  elephant  had  felt  the  prick  of  the  Mahout's  ankus.  The 
Big  Doctor's  face  was  perturbed.  Tishy  saw  him  look  at  the 
little  priest's  glass,  and  knew  that  he  wished  it  were  empty, 
in  order  that  he  might  pour  into  it  a  propitiatory  oblation. 
He  cleared  his  throat  once  or  twice  before  he  spoke. 

*'  Very  true,  Father,  very  true.  I  used  to  think  the  same 
thing  in  England.  The  chaps  I  used  to  meet  there — no 
one  would  know  what  religion  they  belong  to,  no  more  than 
if  they  were  heathens.  That  young  lad  that  you  weren't 
pleased  with — young  Coppinger — I  believe  he's  as  good  a 
Catholic  as  any  of  us,  but  he  happens  to  be  thrown  mostly 
among  Protestants.  I  often  think  it's  no  more  than  our  duty 
as  Catholics  to  try  and  see  as  much  as  we  can  of  him.  He 
and  Barty  here,  got  to  be  very  great  with  each  other  the  time 
he  was  with  us,  but  it's  only  an  odd  time  now  that  we  get  a 
sight  of  him." 

*'  I  was  talking  to  him  a  long  while,  the  last  time  he  was 
home,"  said  Barty,  looking  up,  with  something  smouldering 
in  his  voice,  '*  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  Oxford  next 
October.     It's  well  to  be  him  !  "  he  ended  defiantly. 

*'  Now,  I  wouldn't  be  too  sure  of  that  at  all  !  "  said  Father 
Greer,  with  a  smoothness  that  implied  the  laying  aside  of 
the  ankus  ;  "  I  think,  my  young  friend,  that  your  good  father's 
house  is  as  safe  and  happy  a  place  for  you  as  you  could  wish 
for  !  "  He  turned  to  the  Doctor.  "  I  may  say  that  there  is 
a  belief  among  certain  classes  that  no  one  is  properly  edjucated 
without  they've  been  sent  to  England.  I  thought  my  friend 
Barty,  was  a  better  Irishman  than  it  seems  he  is  !  " 

*'  I'm  as  good  an  Irishman  as  any  man  !  "  said  Barty, 
in  a  sudden  blaze,  *'  and  may-be  better  than  some  !  " 

His  face  had  turned  white,  and  his  eyes,  that  were  as  large 
and  dark  as  his  mother's,  met  those  of  Father  Greer  with 
the  courage  of  anger. 

**  What  harm  is  it  to  want  to  get  a  better  education  than 


MOUNT   MUSIC  109 

what  I  have  ?  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  want  to  go  to 
Oxford,  or  Switzerland  either,  for  the  matter  o'  that — as  well 
as  another  !  " 

Father  Greer,  as  Dr.  Mangan  remarked  subsequently, 
took  Barty's  making  a  fool  of  himself  very  w^ell.  He  put  his 
head  on  one  side,  his  black  eyebrows  went  up,  and  he  again 
uttered  that  succession  of  sniffs  that  served  him  for  a  laugh. 

*'  It  seems  that  I  have  made  a  railing  accusation  without 
meaning  it,  and  brought  down  fire  from  heaven,  like  the 
Prophet  Elijah,  only  to  find  that  I  am  myself  to  forrum  the 
burnt  offering  !  "  he  said,  pleasantly.  **  Well,  well,  Barty, 
don't  consume  me  entirely  in  your  just  indignation,  and  I'll 
promise  you  to  make  no  insinuendoes  in  future  as  to  whether 
you're  a  good  or  bad  Irishman  !  " 

I  am  unable  to  determine  if  Father  Greer  deliberately 
devised  this  felicitous  amalgamation  of  the  two  words  that 
were  in  his  mind,  or  if  it  was  unintentional,  and  an  indication 
that  Barty's  brief  flare  of  revolt  had  flustered  him  a  little. 
I  am  inclined  to  the  latter  theory.  In  any  case,  the  word  is 
a  useful  one. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

Christian  was  in  the  kennels,  in  their  innermost  depths 
She  was,  in  fact,  seated  on  the  bench  of  "  the  ladies  " 
lodging-house,  on  the  dry  and  rustling  cushion  of  bracken  on 
which  Major  Talbot-Lowry  bedded  his  pack. 

Yearning  to  her,  sitting  all  over  her,  covering  her  with 
their  ponderous  affection,  were  the  hounds.  Two  large 
ladies  had  each  a  head  on  each  of  her  shoulders  ;  two  more 
had  laid  their  chins  on  her  knees,  and  were  gazing  raptly 
into  her  face.  The  less  favoured  stood,  and  squeezed,  and 
pushed,  and  panted,  with  glowing  eyes  and  waving  sterns, 
in  as  close  a  circle  round  her  as  it  was  possible  to  form. 

"  Dearest  things  !  "  apostrophised  Christian,  "  I  feel  like 
Nero — I  wish  you  had  only  one  lovely  head,  so  that  I  might 
kiss  you  all  at  once  !  " 

*'  Rot  !  "  said  Larry,  who  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
facing  her,  and  saying  :  **  Down,  you  brute  !  "  at  intervals, 
to  hounds,  who,  having  failed  to  force  their  way  to  Christian 
were  directing  their  attention  to  him,  to  the  detriment  of 
his  grey  flannel  trousers.  "  And  look  at  your  dress  from  their 
filthy  paws  !  " 

"  Good  Gawd,  Mr.  Larry  Sir  !  Don't  say  paws  !  'Ounds 
*ave/<?e^,"  responded  Christian,  whose  imitation  of  Cottingham 
was  no  less  accurate  now  than  it  had  been  some  eight  years 
earlier  ;   "  and  I  don't  care  a  pin  for  this  old  skirt  anyway — " 

"  I'm  as  fond  of  hounds  as  anyone,"  said  Larry,  reprovingly, 
"  but  I  must  say  I  should  draw  the  line  at  their  licking  my 
face  !  " 

"  They  don't  !  "  said  Christian,  indignantly  ;  "  that's  the 
beauty  of  them.  They  never  lick — except  perhaps  my 
darling  Nancy,  because  I  nursed  her  when  she  had 
pneumonia." 

no 


MOUNT    MUSIC  III 

"  If  I  were  you,  Cottingham,  I  wouldn't  let  Miss  Christian 
into  the  kennels,"  said  Larry,  with  severity,  *'  she  makes  lap- 
dogs  of  the  hounds  !  " 

Cottingham  had  joined  the  party,  and  was  leaning  on  the 
half-door  of  the  kennel,  watching  his  hounds  with  the  never- 
failing  interest  of  a  good   kennel-huntsman. 

*'  I  couldn't  be  too  'ard  on  Miss  Christeen,  sir,"  replied 
Cottingham  ;  "  her's  the  best  walk  I  have.  That  there 
Nancy  was  a  sickly  little  thing  enough  when  I  sent  'er  to 
Miss  Christeen,  and  look  at  'er  now  !     A  slapping  fine  bitch  !" 

Christian  turned  a  slow  and  expressionless  eye  upon  her 
accuser,  indicating  triumph. 

*'  It's  like  this  with  that  Nancy,"  continued  Cottingham, 
with  whom  the  preaching  habit,  fostered  by  years  of  laying 
down  the  law  to  subservient  fields,  was  inveterate.  "  Her 
got  that  fond  of  Miss  Christeen,  her  follered  'er  about,  the 
way  the  ole  lamb  followed  Mary,  as  they  say.  And  that 
artful  she  got  !  Wouldn't  try  a  yard  !  An'  she  'ad  the  'ole 
o'  the  young  entry  like  'erself.  Any  sort  of  a  check,  and  back 
they  all  comes  an'  looks  at  me,  wi'  their  'eads  a  one  side, 
and  their  sterns  agoin'  like  this,"  he  wagged  a  stubby  fore- 
finger to  and  fro  in  so  precisely  the  right  rhythm,  that,  stubby 
as  it  was,  no  magic  wand  could  evolve  more  instantly  the 
scene  to  be  presented  ;  "  an'  that's  'ow  it'd  be,  th'old  'ounds 
workin'  'ard,  and  the  young  uns  lookin'  like  they  'as  nothin* 
to  do  only  admire  of  me  !  " 

*'  Quite  right,  too  !  "  truckled  Christian. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Christeen,  I'm  too  used  to  soft  soap,  I  am  !  '* 

"  Well,  you  know,  Cottingham,  it  was  /  cured  Nancy 
when  she  took  to  following  7ne  about."  She  turned  to  Larry. 
"  Luckily,  I  broke  my  wrist,  and  by  the  time  I  was  able  to 
ride  again  she  had  given  me  up  and  taken  to  hunting." 

*'  That's  what  you  says,  Miss,"  said  Cottingham  ;  "  but 
I  reckon  what  her  wanted  was  what  her  got  from  me — a  good 
'idin'  !  " 

Having  made  his  point,  Cottingham,  a  true  artist  departed 
at  the  little  toddling  run  that  in  kennels  indicates  devotion 
to  duty,  combined  with  a  slippery  floor. 

"  I  had  forgotten  about  your  breaking  your  wrist — I 
remember  about  my  own,  right  enough  !  "  said  Larry, 
*•  What  rotten  luck  !  " 


112  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  Oh,  it's  dead  sound  now,"  said  Christian.  **  Look  !  " 
She  stood  up,  and  held  out  both  her  slender  hands  to  him 
across  the  intervening  hounds'  backs.  *'  I  bet  you  don't 
know  which  is  which  !  " 

Larry  took  a  hand  in  each  of  his,  and  flexed  the  wrists. 
"  The  left,  wasn't  it  .? "  he  said,  without  releasing  them, 
"  Not  that  I  see  any  difference,  only  I  remember  now  that  I 
heard  you  had  smashed  the  same  one  that  I  did." 

**  It  did  hurt — horribly  !  I  expect  you  know.  It  hurts  still 
a  little,  sometimes."  She  looked  at  him  for  sympathy. 
She  was  nearly  eighteen  now,  and  had  caught  him  up  in 
height,  so  that  her  brown  eyes  looked  straight  into  his  blue 
ones. 

**  Poor  little  paw  !  "  said  Larry  patronisingly  ;  he  was  going 
to  be  twenty-one  in  a  week,  and  felt  immeasurably  older  than 
Christian.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  forgot  !  I  mustn't  say  paw. 
Must  I  call  it  *  foot  '  ?  I'll  make  it  well,  anyhow  !  "  he  ended, 
and,  in  what  he  felt  to  be  the  manner  of  a  kind  uncle,  he  kissed 
the  injured  wrist. 

*'  Quite  well  now,  thank  you  !  "  said  Christian,  mockingly, 
withdrawing  her  hands.  *'  If  I  had  only  thought  of  it,  I 
could  have  got  Nancy  to  lick  it  !  It  might  have  done  just  as 
well  !  "  Her  colour  had  risen  a  little.  "  Let's  come  out ; 
it's  rather  stuffy  in  here." 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  kennel  precincts  were  waiting 
two  small,  smooth,  white  dogs,  daughters  of  the  adored 
companions  of  Christian's  childhood,  themselves  scarcely 
less  adored  than  were  their  parents.  Seated,  as  was  their 
practice,  in  a  well-chosen  position,  that  combined  seclusion 
with  a  commanding  view  of  the  detested  hounds,  they  had 
not  ceased  (as  was  also  their  practice)  from  loud  and  desolate 
barking,  an  exercise  that  in  the  case  of  Dooley,  the  younger 
and  more  highly-strung  of  the  couple,  was  accustomed  to 
develop  into  a  sustained  contralto  wail.  As  Christian  and 
Larry  left  the  kennel  yard,  this  moment  had  been  reached. 
Dooley's  nose  was  in  the  air,  her  mouth  was  as  round  as  the 
neck  of  a  bottle,  her  white  throat  looked  as  long  as  a  swan's 
throat,  and  the  bark  was  softening  into  sobs.  Christian  flung 
herself  down,  and  gathered  her  and  her  sister,  the  second 
Rinka,  into  her  arms. 

"  Let's  sit  down  here,"  she  said,  sending  her  hat  spinning 


MOUNT    MUSIC  113 

down  the  grassy  slope  ;   "  it's  too  lovely  to  go  in,  and  I  want 
a  cigarette." 

"Haven't  got  one,"  said  Larry.     "  Sorry.     I  gave  them 
up  in  Lent,  and  now  I'm  doing  as  well  without  'em." 

"  Nerve  gone  already  ?  "  said  Christian.  **  That's  what 
comes  of  missing  a  season  !  "     She  laughed  up  at  him. 

**  Don't  know,"  said  Larr}%  dropping  down  beside  her  on 
the  dry,  sun-hot  grass  ;  **  quite  likely  ;  but  it  wasn't  that. 
The  fact  was  "—he  hesitated—*'  I  met  a  very  decent  Padre 
at  Miirren.  We  used  to  talk  a  lot  about— oh,  no  end 
of  things  !  When  he  found  I  was  Irish  he  was  awfully  pleased 
He  congratulated  me  on  belonging  to  the  Old  Faith— he's 
Irish  himself,  but  he's  never  lived  over  here.  He  said  it  was 
such  a  wonderful  link  with  the  people  and  the  past— such  a 
romantic  religion  !  And  so  it  is,  you  know.  It  hadn't 
struck  me,  somehow,  till  Father  Nugent  talked  of  it.  Fm 
sorry  for  you.  Christian  !  Don't  you  feel  being  a  Protestant 
is  a  bit — well— stodgy— and  respectable — no  sort  of  poetry  }  " 
*'  I  hke  stodge,"  said  Christian,  serenely. 
Larry  paid  this  frivolity  no  attention.  He  had  only  recently 
discovered  that  he  possessed  a  soul,  and  he  was  as  much 
pleased  with  it  as  he  had  been  with  his  first  watch,  and  he 
found  much  the  same  enjoyment  in  producing  and  examining 
it,  that  had  been  afforded  to  him  by  the  watch. 

"  It  was  Father  Nugent's  suggestion  to  give  up  smoking," 
he  said,  unable  to  ehminate  from  his  voice  a  touch  of  pride, 
"  I  knocked  off  whiskies  and  sodas,  too— but  that  was  off  mv 
own  bat."  -^ 

Smite  them  by  the  merit  of  the  Lenten  Fast  !  '  " 
murmured  Christian.  Unlike  Larry,  she  evaded  personalities 
and  especially  those  that  involved  a  discussion  of  religion. 
"  Larry,  do  you  remember  the  awful  rags  we  used  to  have 
over  that  hymn  !  What  ages  it  is  since  you  were  at  home  ! 
Not  since  I've  had  my  hair  up  !  " 

"  By  Jove,  I  hardly  knew  you  when  I  saw  you  first  !  " 
responded  Larry,  his  sails  filling  on  a  fresh  tack  with  character- 
istic speed.  "  It's  not  as  light  as  it  used  to  be.  I'm  not  sure 
that  I  like  it  up." 

He  looked  at  her  critically.  Her  hair,  thick  and  waving, 
lay  darkly  on  her  forehead,  and  was  stacked  in  masses  upon 
her  small  head  on  a  system  known  only  to  herself. 


114  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  That's  a  pity,"  said  Christian,  coolly,  "  and  I  hate  it, 
too.  But  unluckily,  whether  you  and  I  hate  it  or  not,  it's 
got  to  stay  up  now — that's  to  say,  when  it  will.  I'm  sup- 
posed to  be  '  out.'  I'm  nearly  eighteen,  you  know.  I 
never  thought  I'd  live  to  such  an  age." 

"  Oh,  wait  till  you're  '  of  age,'  like  me  !  "  said  Larry, 
impressively.  *'  Then  you'll  know  the  horrors  of  longevity. 
I've  got  to  take  over  the  show — the  tenants  and  all  the  rest 
of  it — from  your  father,  and  Aunt  Freddy,  next  week  !  An 
awful  job  it's  going  to  be  !  Cousin  Dick  says  that  these 
revisions  of  rent  have  played  the  deuce  all  round.  I  shall 
make  old  Barty  Mangan  my  agent.  He's  a  solicitor  now  all 
right.  He  can  run  the  show.  I  like  old  Barty,  don't  you  ?  " 
*'  I  hardly  ever  see  him,"  said  Christian,  cautiously.  **  He 
has  rather  nice  looks — more  like  a  poet  than  a  solicitor." 

**  You  see,  I  want  to  go  abroad,  and  do  some  music,  and 
paint,"  said  Larry,  pressing  on  with  his  own  subject.     **  Take 

painting  on  seriously,  you  know " 

**  I  know,"  said  Christian,  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't  envy 
Barty  Mangan  !     I  know  Papa's  having  botheration  with  our 

people " 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  me  to  earn  my  living  by 
painting  !  "  responded  Larry  cheerfully. 

They  were  sitting  at  the  edge  of  a  patch  of  plantation. 
It  was  the  middle  of  May,  and  the  young  larches  behind  them 
were  clad  in  a  cloud  of  pale  emerald  ;  the  clumps  of 
hawthorn,  that  were  dotted  about  the  park,  between  the 
kennels  and  the  river,  were  sending  forth  the  fragrance  of 
their  whiteness  ;  the  new  green  had  come  into  the  grass,  though 
it  was  almost  smothered  in  the  snow  of  daisies  ;  primroses 
and  wild  hyacinths  had  strayed  from  the  little  wood,  and 
straggling  down  the  hillside,  had  joined  hands  and  agreed, 
the  first,  to  linger,  the  latter,  to  hasten  into  blow,  and  so  to 
share  the  month  between  them.  Just  below,  on  the  turn  of 
the  hill,  was  a  big  thicket  of  furze  bushes,  more  golden  than 
gold,  sweeter  also  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb.  From 
Larry's  woods  across  the  Ownashee,  the  cuckoo's  voice  came,  as 
melodiously  monotonous  and  as  full  of  associations  as  the 
bell  of  a  village  church.  Silvery  clouds  were  sailing  very 
high  in  a  sky  of  thinnest,  sweetest  blue  ;  little  jets  of  sparkling 
sound,  rising  and  falling  in  it,  bespoke  the  invisible,  rapturous 


MOUNT    MUSIC  115 

larks,  tireless  as  a  playing  fountain  ;  and  the  sun  blazed  down 
onj  the  boy  and  the  girl  and  the  two  little  dogs  seated  there 
in  the  full  of  it. 

Larry  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  grass  like  a  young  colt. 

'*  Oh,  murder-in-Irish  !  "  he  groaned,  in  sheer  ecstasy, 
"  isn't  it  gorgeous  !  I  always  forget  how  entirely  stunning 
Ireland  is,  till  I  come  back  to  it  !  " 

He  could  say  no  more,  as  both  dogs  had  sprung  from 
Christian's  arms,  and  were  feverishly  licking  his  face. 

"  Your  own  fault  !  "  said  Christian,  answering  his  expostula- 
tions.    '*  Kind  Httle  things,  they  thought  you  asked  for  it.'* 

**  I  repeat,"  said  Larry,  lying  on  his  back,  and  holding  off 
his  assailants  with  difficulty,  "  eliminating  badly  brought-up 
dogs,  that  Ireland  is  the  finest  country  in  the  world,  and — 
Hsten  to  this.  Christian  ! — the  Irish  are  the  finest  people, 
and  the  worst  governed  !  " 

"  *  The  foinest  pisanthry  in  Europe  '  !  "  said  Christian,  in 
gibing  exaggeration.    *'  Larry,  you've  got  awfully  English  !  " 

Larry  rolled  over  and  came  into  play  again,  sitting  bolt 
upright  ;  ''  I'm  a  Home  Ruler  !  " 

*'  Don't  be  absurd,"  said  Christian,  tranquilly. 

"  I'm  not  the  least  absurd,"  returned  Larry.  "  I  mean 
it.  If  not  a  Republican  !  "  he  added,  ostentatiously,  and 
began  to  chant : 

*'  And    Ireland   shall    be   free, 
"  From  the  centre  to  the  sea, 
"  And  huzza  for  Libertee, 
"  Says  the  Shan  Van  Voght  !  " 

"  I  say,  you  remember  the  old  Companions  of  Finn  ?  Well, 
they're  rolling  up  again  !  I've  started  them  at  Oxford. 
Six  members  already  !     Two  men  in  my  college,  and " 

*'  English,  of  course  !  "  interrupted  Christian,  with  an 
eflfective  tone  of  elderly  superiority.  *'  People  like  yourself, 
who  know  nothing  about  it  !  " 

This  was  an  insult  not  easily  to  be  tolerated  ;  the  gage  of 
battle  did  not  lie  long  at  Larry's  feet,  and  it  may  be  admitted 
that  the  challenger  would  have  been  ill  pleased  had  it  been 
ignored. 

In  the  five  years  that  had  passed  since  the  curtain  of  this 


ii6  MOUNT    MUSIC 

narrative  went  down  on  Christian,  she  had  changed  more 
than  had  Larry.  It  was  as  though  that  extra- worldly  endow- 
ment of  her  childhood  having  ceased  to  manifest  in  external 
ways,  had  turned  its  light  inwards.  The  power  of  hearing 
what  others  could  not  hear,  had  faded,  but  a  subtlety  of  mind, 
a  clarity,  a  sort  of  pondering,  intellectual  self-consciousness 
(that  had  no  kinship  with  that  other  form  of  self-conscious- 
ness that  is  only  inverted  self-conceit)  had  taken  the  place 
of  those  voices  that  she  had  once  refused  to  deny  to  the 
inquisitorial  John. 

The  battle,  with  regard  to  the  resurrected  Companions 
of  Finn,  having  waxed  and  waned  in  a  course  that  need  not 
here  be  followed,  the  argument  took  on  another  phase. 

**  You  know,  Larry,"  Christian  said,  half- absently  twisting 
and  arranging  Dooley's  little  tan  ears,  in  order  to  express,  on 
Dooley's  behalf,  with  them,  various  emotions,  "  it  seems  to 
me  that  all  these  political  revolutions  that  you  are  so  anxious 
to  start,  for  the  good  of  Ireland,  are  like  putting  the  cart 
before  the  horse." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Larry,  eyeing  her  with 
undisguised  surprise. 

"  Well,"  said  Christian,  slowly,  gazing  across  the  valley 
with  eyes  more  than  ever  like  the  clearest  brown  stream, 
"  youVe  got  to  begin  with  the  individual.  After  all,  Ireland 
is  made  up  of  individuals,  and  each  of  them  contributes  in 
some  way  to  the  big  result.     It  seems  to  me  that  the  real 

Spirit  of  the  Nation  is — is " 

Her  gaze  at  the  far  woods  became  fixed,  and  her  hands 
ceased  to  play  with  the  soft,  tan  ears. 

*'  Is  what  ?  "  said  Larry,  rather  impatiently.  He  was 
bewildered  by  this  grave,  young  debater,  and  was  trj^ing  to 
reconcile  her  with  the  child  he  had  left  behind  him  last  year, 
or  even  with  the  child  who,  five  minutes  ago,  had  wished  to 
impress  a  comprehensive  kiss  on  all  the  hounds  at  once. 
Moreover,  a  young  gentleman  on  the  imminent  verge  of 
official  manhood,  is  justified  in  resenting  ideas,  in  opposition 
to  his  own,  being  offered  to  him  by  a  little  girl,  with  her  hair 
only  just  "  up,"  whom  he  regards  as  no  more  than  a  niece, 
or  thereabouts. 

"  Well,"  said  Christian,  still  more  slowly,  her  eyes  lifting 
from  the  woods  and  resting  on  a  shining  snowball  of  a  cloud, 


MOUNT   MUSIC  117 

"  it's  Religious  Intolerance,  I  think  !  That  seems  to  me  the 
Spirit  of  the  Nation — my  side  as  bad  as  yours,  and  yours  as 
bad  as  mine '* 

"*  Oh,  the  parsons  and  the  priests,"  said  Larry,  airily.  "Oh 
you  wait,  Christian  !  You  don't  know  !  You've  been  stuck 
down  here  in  a  hole.     If  you  met  Father  Nugent " 

*'  But  I  don't  mean  them  only,"  said  Christian,  standing 
to  her  guns  ;  **  I  mean  the  individual — you  and  me  !  Just 
anybody — we're  all  the  same.  The  Shan  van  Voght  has  got 
to  free  us  from  each  other  before  she  takes  on  England  !  " 
She  looked  at  Larry  ;  the  seriousness  left  her  face,  and  she 
shook  back  the  dark  hair  from  her  forehead  with  just  the  same 
gay,  mutinous  toss  of  the  head  that  a  young  horse  will  give 
when  the  rider  picks  up  the  reins.  **  I  may  have  been  stuck 
down  here  in  a  hole  !  "  said  Christian,  mocking  him  ;  *'  but 
anyhow,  I  haven't  lived  in  England  and  lost  my  eye  !  " 

"What  about  seeing  from  a  distance,  and  seeing  the  whole 
and  not  the  part  ?  "  retorted  Larry.  "What  about  a  bird's 
eye  view  ?  "  He  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was  looking  down 
at  her,  feeling  the  moral  support  of  physical  elevation. 

"  That  depends  on  the  bird  !  "  said  Christian.     "  Now, 

if  it  were  a  goose,  for  example !    Like Hi  !     Dogs  ! 

Look,  Larry  !  Look  !  Down  by  the  furze  bushes  !  A 
huge  rabbit  !  " 

The  discussion  closed  abruptly,  as  such  discussions  will, 
when  the  disputants  are  at  the  golden  age,  and  views  and 
opinions  are  winged,  and  have  not  yet  become  ballast,  or, 
which  is  worse,  turned  to  mooring-stoncs. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  origin  of  the  Coppinger's  Court  picnic  was  complicated 
and  has  remained  obscure.  Whether  its  author  had  been 
Mrs.  Mangan,  or  her  friend,  Mrs.  Whelply,  or  young  Mr. 
Coppinger  himself,  was  uncertain,  but  the  fact  remained 
that  a  picnic,  with  indirect  reference  to  the  blossoming  of 
the  bluebells  {i.e.,  the  wild  hyacinths)  was  decided  upon, 
and  that  Larry,  in  the  course  of  the  visit  that  he  never  failed 
to  pay  to  the  Mangan  household,  had  placed  the  demesne 
of  Coppinger's  Court  at  the  disposal  of  the  ladies  of  Cluhir, 
as  a  scene  for  the  entertainment. 

Larry's  fidelity  to  the  Mangans  was  a  matter  that  was 
undoubtedly  something  of  a  trial  to  his  Aunt  Freddy.  She 
was  too  inflexibly  conscientious  to  attempt  to  deny,  even  to 
Lady  Isabel,  still  less  to  herself,  that  such  fidelity  was 
creditable,  but  she  felt  justified  in  considering  it  superfluous  ; 
when,  as  now,  it  took  the  form  of  inviting  a  party  of  unknown 
size,  under  the  patronage  of  Mrs.  Mangan,  to  accept  the 
Ownashee  as  its  washpot,  and  (as  it  were)  to  cast  forth  its 
shoe  over  Coppinger's  Court,  Aunt  Freddy  may  be  forgiven  the 
manoeuvre  that  arranged  a  seance  with  her  Dublin  dentist  for 
the  date  decided  upon  for  the  picnic,  and  may  be  felt  to  deserve 
the  sympathy  of  those  who  can  appreciate  the  inwardness 
of  her  position.  And  this  last,  improbable  though  it  may  seem 
to  some  people,  was  made  immensely  more  difficult  by  the 
simple  and  irrelevant  fact  that  she,  on  Sundays,  betook 
herself  to  the  Knock  Ceoil  Protestant  church,  while  Larry 
went  to  the  white  chapel  on  the  hill.  It  was  to  the  grey, 
stone  Protestant  church  that  Larry's  forbears  had  gone  for 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  or  more,  ever  since  the  then  reign- 

ii8 


MOUNT   MUSIC  119 

ing  Coppinger  had  fallen  in  love  with  an  English  heiress, 
and,  agreeing  with  Henri  Quatre,  that  Paris  was  well  worth  a 
Mass,  had  '  verted  to  marry  her.  Never  in  living  memory 
had  the  congregations  that  filled  full  the  white  chapel  on  the 
hill,  included  in  their  dutiful  ranks  any  being  of  higher  degree 
than  might  have  been  found  in  those  other  congregations, 
that,  some  nineteen  hundred  years  earlier,  were  gathered  in  the 
hills  of  Galilee  ;  those  humble  crowds  who  came  to  hear  Christ 
preach,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  they  were  of  the  common 
people,  and  that  they  heard  Him  gladly.  Miss  Frederica 
was  as  good  a  Christian — in  some  ways  probably  a  better 
one — as  might  have  been  found  in  the  white  chapel,  but  it 
was  impossible  for  her  not  to  feel,  what  was,  indeed,  felt, 
with  a  singular  mixture  of  satisfaction  and  disapproval,  by 
the  majority  of  the  white  chapel's  congregation,  that  Larry's 
parents  had,  socially,  been  ill-advised  when  they  *'  made 
a  Roman  of  him."  In  the  creed  of  Mary  Twomey,  and  her 
fellows,  it  was  only  in  conformity  with  natural  law  in  the 
spiritual  world  that  ginthry  should  go  to  church,  and  the  like 
of  herself  to  chapel.  She,  no  more  than  Frederica,  could 
subdue  the  feeling  of  incongruity  imparted  by  the  fact  of 
Master  Larry  and  herself  worshipping  together  ;  it  was  as 
though,  if  she  had  run  into  the  kitchen  to  get  a  sup  of  hot 
water,  or  the  wetting  of  her  mouth  o'  tay,  she  had  found  him 
sitting  among  the  maids  in  the  servants'  hall.  Mary  Twomey, 
and  her  fellows,  would  have  indignantly  repudiated  the  idea 
of  taking  service  with  one  of  their  own  church.  '*  No  ! 
Thank  God  !  I  never  sank  to  that  !  "  Mary  had  once  said, 
when  such  had  been  imputed  to  her.  There  was  no  question 
of  religion  in  it.  Merely  of  fitness.  So  inveterate  in  the 
older  Ireland  is,  or  was,  what  Christian  might  have  considered 
to  be  the  outcome  of  The  Spirit  of  the  Nation,  but  that,  in 
this  special  connection,  may  with,  perhaps,  greater  accuracy, 
be  ascribed  to  the  aristocratic  instinct. 

Something  like  a  sheet  of  thin  ice  had  come  into  existence 
between  Larry's  life  and  that  of  his  aunt.  It  had  come 
gradually,  almost  imperceptibly.  There  had  been  a  time, 
after  his  First  Communion,  when  Larry  had  confided  in 
Frederica.  He  had  even  told  her  of  the  anxieties  he  had  felt 
before  his  first  Confession,  and  of  how  difficult  he  had  found  it 
to  decide  upon  the  sins  that  he  could,  without  arrogance  lay 


120  MOUNT   MUSIC 

to  his  own  charge.  He  told  her  that  he  had  invented  several 
crimes,  in  order  to  dignify  the  occasion.  Frederica  wondered 
secretly  how  that  charming  Jesuit  Father,  to  whom,  at  Monks 
hurst,  she  had  been  introduced  as  her  nephew's  spiritual 
director,  had  dealt  with  the  sinner  ;  but  this,  Larry  had  not 
divulged.  There  were,  from  that  time  forward,  an  increasing 
number  of  things  that  Larry  did  not  divulge  to  his  Aunt 
Freddy,  and  the  sheet  of  ice  slowly  became  thicker.  It  was 
"  the  religious  aspect  of  the  case,"  as  Miss  Coppinger  com- 
plained to  Mr.  Fetherston,  that  made  it  so  impossible  for 
her  to  speak  her  mind  to  Larry  about  the  Mangans. 

"  Do  you  remember  you  advised  us  to  send  him  to 
Oxford  ?  "  she  reproached  him.  ''I'm  afraid  it  has  only 
had  the  effect  of  making  him  take  his  religion  more  seriously 
— for  which,  I  suppose,  one  ought  to  be  thankful "  . . 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  the  Reverend  Charles  had  replied. 
"  They  say  all  roads  lead  to  Rome,  so  no  doubt  the  converse 
holds  good,  and  out  of  Rome  some  road  must  lead  to  Heaven  !  ' 

The  Reverend  Charles  was  pleased  with  his  aphorism, 
but  Frederica  could  not  enjoy  it.  Not  even  Mr.  Fetherston 
could  console  her  on  this  matter. 

"  His  very  niceness  and  simplicity  make  him  a  prey  for 
undesirables,"  she  mourned,  *'  and  he  has  that  peculiar  gift 
of  making  every  one  fond  of  him.     I  suppose  it  is  his  looks — " 

**  Then  you  cannot  blame  the  undesirables,"  her  rector 
responded. 

Larry's  looks  had,  certainly,  a  spell  that  was  something  in 
excess  of  what  may  be  called  their  *'  face-value."  Though 
legal  manhood  was  so  soon  to  be  his  status,  he  had  still  some 
of  the  radiance  of  childhood  about  him.  His  hair  was  of  the 
same  pure  and  infantine  gold  that  it  had  been  when  he  charged 
down  on  the  Eldest  Statesman  on  the  stepping-stones  of  the 
Ownashee  ;  his  blue  eyes  had  lost  none  of  their  candour  ; 
the  touch  of  gilding  on  his  upper  lip  was  effective  only  at 
short  range,  but,  when  taken  in  connection  with  a  very  white 
and  even  set  of  teeth,  and  a  beaming  and  ever-ready  smile, 
it  carried  considerable  weight.  His  fair  skin  had  not  yet  taken 
on  its  summer  scorch  of  carmine,  and  its  soft  and  babyish 
pinkness  softened  the  salience  of  his  short  nose,  and  induced 
the  critic  to  condone  the  want  of  decision  in  his  chin. 

"  Not  a  handsome  boy,  exactly,"  people  said,  "  but,"  and 


MOUNT   MUSIC 


121 


here  people  would  smile  relentingly,  *'  if  he  had  been  a  girl, 
one  would  certainly  quite  have  said  *  pretty  ' — so  attractive- 
looking,  and  so — so  clean  !  "  which  might  seem  to  be  the  con- 
demnation of  faint  praise,  but  was,  in  reality,  merely  the 
tribute  that  Larry's  new-minted  golden-ness  of  aspect 
startled  from  the  beholder. 

He  was  no  more  than  five  foot  nine  in  height,  which  was  a 
trial  that  at  times  he  felt  deeply,  but  there  are  practical 
advantages  for  a  young  man  who  rides,  in  being  able  to  do 
so  at  something  considerably  under  eleven  stone.  At  boxing, 
rowing,  and  games,  what  he  lost  in  weight  and  reach,  he  made 
up  for  in  speed  and  elasticity  and  endurance.  Finally,  it 
may  be  said  that  his  figure  had  the  gift  of  making  old 
clothes  look  new,  and  new  clothes  look  unaggressive,  and 
when  to  these  attributes  is  added  a  faculty  for  wearing  hunting 
kit  with  accuracy  and  finish,  it  will  be  understood  that  Larry 
had  early  achieved  standing  in  his  college. 

The  Cluhir  picnic,  that  had  so  justifiably  perturbed  Miss 
Frederica,  debouched,  like  a  mighty  river,  from  its  wagonettes 
and  outside  cars,  upon  the  lawns  of  Coppinger's  Court,  at 
about  four  of  the  clock,  of  a  beautiful,  balmy  May  afternoon, 
and  to  Larry  fell  the  task  of  deciding  upon  its  course  of 
procedure.  Clad  in  very  white  flannels  and  a  prismatic 
blazer,  and  looking,  as  his  most  tepid  supporter  would 
have  to  allow,  a  picture  of  cleanliness,  he  advanced  upon 
Mrs.  Mangan's  wagonette,  and  proffered  an  arm,  fortunately 
of  steel,  to  facilitate  her  descent.  The  five  years  that  had 
elapsed  since  Larry  was  her  guest,  had  eff"ected  less  change 
m  her  than  in  him.  Save  that  the  bisonian  fringe  now  held 
a  grey  hair  or  two  in  its  dark  depths,  and  the  curves,  that 
had  suggested  a  Chesterfield  sofa  to  her  young  friend,  were 
now  something  more  opulent  than  they  had  been,  Mrs. 
Mangan's  progress  along  the  corridor  of  eternity  had  made  no 
perceptible  mark  on  her.  Still,  in  assisting  her  descent 
from  a  high  wagonette,  an  arm  of  steel  was  not  out  of  place. 

Larry  was  at  the  age  that,  believing  itself  critical  to  the 
pomt  of  extinction  of  the  rejected,  yet  accepts  with  enthusiasm 
any  female  creature  that  can  wear  a  smart  hat  with  assurance, 
and  wag  a  flattering  tongue  with  address.  The  Cluhir 
ladies  were  proficient  in  these  arts.  Mr.  Coppinger  was 
congratulated  on  his  weather  ;   arranged  by  his  skill,  poured 


122  MOUNT   MUSIC 

forth  of  his  benevolence !  On  his  demesne,  so  green  with  young 
leaves,  so  gay  with  spring  flowers  !  Kind  Mr.  Coppinger 
to  have  created  them  in  such  profusion  !  And  what  warmth 
was  there  in  the  Coppinger's  Court  sun  !  The  second  rate 
luminary  dedicated  to  Cluhir  was  no  more  than  a  candle  to 
it  !  Mr.  Coppinger's  Ant  was  enquired  for  (this,  it  should, 
perhaps,  be  explained,  referred  to  Frederica,  and  had  no 
entomological  application)  suitable  regrets  at  her  absence  from 
home  were  expressed,  with  a  delicate  implication  that  with 
such  a  host,  and  in  such  weather,  the  loss  was  the  Ant*s, 
and  was  practically  negligible,  so  far  as  the  ladies  of  Cluhir 
were  concerned.  And  who  were  these,  coming  up  the  path 
from  Mr.  Coppinger's  lovely  river  }  Ah,  yes,  the  youngest 
Miss  Talbot-Lowry,  of  course,  and  which  brother  was  it  ? 
Oh,  the  youngest  one  ?  Mrs.  Cassidy  had  thought  the 
youngest  of  Lady  Isabel's  family  was  a  twins — or  were  a  twins  ? 
Which  ought  she  to  say  } 

**  Well,  this  is  half  of  it,  anyhow  !  "  says  young  Mr. 
Coppinger,  facetiously,  with  which  Mrs.  Cassidy,  like  the 
Miss  Flamboroughs,  thought  she  would  have  died  with 
laughing. 

With  the  arrival  of  the  youngest  Miss  Talbot-Lowry,  and 
half  the  twins,  a  slight  change  fell  upon  Mr.  Coppinger's 
voluble  guests.  A  stiffening  faint,  almost  imperceptible,  yet 
electric ,  enforced  the  circle  round  Larry .  Even  Mrs .  Whelply 's 
confluent  simper,  that  suggested  an  incessant  dripping 
from  the  tap  of  loving  kindness,  failed  a  little.  A  young  Mr 
Coppinger  was  a  simple  affair,  but  a  Miss  Talbot-Lowry, 
however  young,  might  want  watching. 

The  youngest  Miss  Talbot-Lowry  was,  happily  for  herself, 
quite  unaware  of  the  estimation  in  which  she  was  held. 
She  had,  like  Larry,  that  quality  of  selflessness  that  is  so  rare 
and  so  infinitely  engaging  ;  what  was  she  (she  would  have 
thought)  that  respect  should  be  paid  to  her  }  It  was  a  tenet 
of  her  eccentric  creed  that  age  was  not  only  honourable 
but  was  also  pathetic,  so,  when  the  picnic  at  large  had  begun 
its  leisurely  advance  through  the  woods  to  the  promised  land, 
Christian  selected  the  oldest  and  least  promising  of  the  Cluhir 
matrons  for  her  special  attention,  and  made  herself  so  agree- 
able to  her,  that  Barty  Mangan,  **  mooching  "  (as  his  mother 
afterwards  reproached  him)  solitary,  in  the  rear  of  the  proces- 


MOUNT   MUSIC  123 

sion,  found  himself  in  the  remarkable  position  of  wishing 
that  he  were  his  own  great-aunt,  Mrs.  Cantwell. 

Barty  Mangan's  opportunities  for  meeting  Christian  had 
been  but  few,  but  they  had  sufficed  to  light  a  fatal  star  in  his 
sky,  and  to  induce  in  him,  when,  as  now,  he  found  himself  in 
her  vicinity,  an  attitude  towards  the  rest  of  the  world  that 
justified  his  mother's  employment  of  the  verb  to  "  mooch  " 
(a  word  that  may  be  taken  as  implying  a  moody  and  furtive 
aloofness). 

There  was,  Mrs.  Mangan  was  pleased  to  observe,  no 
mooching  about  her  daughter.  On  the  launching  of  the 
picnic,  Tishy  had  immediately  assumed  the  lead,  with  an 
aplomb  and  assurance  justified  by  her  family's  special  intimacy 
with  young  Mr.  Coppinger,  and  all  w^ho  knew  Tishy,  knew 
also  that  she  meant  to  keep  it.  Dr.  Mangan  had  not  over- 
stated the  case  when,  three  years  earlier,  he  had  said  te 
himself  that  she  was  a  right-down  handsome  girl.  Now,  at 
twenty-one  and  a  half,  his  paternal  pride  was  well  justified. 
Like  him,  she  was  tall  and  strongly  built,  tall,  that  is  to  say,  for  a 
class  that  rarely  excels  in  height,  and  Tishy's  five  and  a  half 
feet  enabled  her  to  look  down  on  most  of  her  friends.  Her 
broad,  dark  eyebrows  grew  straight  and  low  over  brilliant  grey 
eyes,  and  were  nearly  reached  by  thick  upward-curled  black 
eyelashes.  If  her  mouth  was  large,  it  was  well-shaped,  and  if 
her  nose  did  not  possess  the  classic  severity  of  her  brother's,  its 
challenging  tilt  was  not  unattractive.  To  these  charms  must  be 
added  shining  masses  of  dark  hair,  and  a  complexion  of  so 
vivid  a  tone,  that  it  seemed  sometimes  as  though  a  fog  of 
carmine  coloured  the  very  atmosphere  about  her  glowing 
face.  She  radiated  vitality,  the  richness  and  abundance 
of  high  summer  ;  she  suggested  a  darkly  gorgeous  peacock- 
butterfly,  and  in  the  delicate  radiance  of  the  spring  woods, 
she  seemed  out  of  key  with  their  slender  elegance  of  leaf  and 
spray,  the  soft  reticence  of  their  faint  greens  and  greys. 

It  is  indeed  hardly  fair  to  expect  of  Tishy  Mangan  that  she 
should  be  worthy  of  such  a  setting  as  southern  Irish  woods 
can  offer  in  the  month  of  May.  It  is  the  month  of  the  Mother 
of  God,  and  in  the  fair  demesne  of  Coppinger's  Court,  Heaven 
had  truly  visited  the  earth,  and  was  chiefly  and  specially 
manifest  in  the  Wood  of  the  Ownashee.  The  trees  stood  with 
their  feet  bathed  in  the  changeful,  passionate  blue  of  the  wild 


124  MOUNT   MUSIC  fl 

hyacinths,  a  blue  that  lay  sometimes  in  deep  pools,  sometimes 
in  thin  drifts,  like  the  azure  of  far  skies  ;  the  pale  ferns  rose 
in  it,  "  like  sweet  thoughts  in  a  dream  "  ;  the  grey  stems  of 
the  beeches  were  chequered  with  the  sunlight  that  their 
thin  branches  and  little  leaves  tried  in  vain  to  baffle  and  keep 
at  bay.  From  the  unseen  river  came  varying  voices  ;  some- 
times a  soft  chuckle  that  had  the  laughing  heart  of  the  spring 
in  it,  sometimes  a  rich  and  rushing  harmony,  that  told  of 
distant  heights  and  the  wind  on  the  hills.  There  was  a 
blackbird  who  was  whistling  over  and  over  again  the  opening 
bar  of  the  theme  of  a  presto,  that,  only  last  week,  Larry  had 
heard,  whipped  out  with  frolic  glee  by  the  violins  of  a 
London  orchestra.  He  wondered  if,  with  such  themes, 
it  is  the  blackbirds  who  inspire  the  musicians,  or  if  both  have 
access  to  the  same  secret  well  of  music,  in  which  each  can  dip 
his  little  bucket,  and  bring  listeners  in  the  outer  w^orld  a 
taste  of  the  living  water  of  melody.  But  since  (in  spite  of 
the  Artistic  Temperament)  he  was  a  normal  boy,  what  he 
said  was  : 

"  Stunning  !  Isn't  it  !  "  while  he  stood  still,  waiting,  for 
the  hidden  artist  to  favour  them  with  another  flourish  of  that 
gay  string  of  jewels.     "  He's  '  recapturing  '  it  all  right,  eh  ?  " 

The  much-quoted  quotation  passed  by  Tishy  as  the  idle 
wind.  Even  had  she  recognised  the  allusion,  she  would  have 
considered  the  professional  raptures  of  a  blackbird  a  rather 
dull  subject  of  conversation.  The  gallants  of  Cluhir  did 
did  not  deal  in  such  matters  in  tete  a  the  with  her,  and  she, 
thought,  as  she  had  thought  at  the  children's  party,  long  ago, 
that  Larry,  if  not  quite  a  bore,  might,  in  spite  of  Coppinger's 
Court,  rather  easily  become  one. 

*'  Oh,  he's  stunning  enough  !  "  she  replied,  with  her  full- 
throated,  contralto  laugh  ;  "It  must  be  his  first  cousin  we 
have  in  the  garden  behind  Number  Six  !  Dad  says  he 
doesn't  know,  does  him  or  me  sing  the  loudest  !  " 

By  Jove  !  She  sings  !  thought  Larry  (as  he  was  meant 
to  think).  Of  course  !  What  a  fool  he  was  to  have  for- 
gotten it  !  And  as,  at  this  period  of  his  career,  of  the  three 
arts,  who  were  always  riding  a  race  in  his  soul.  Music,  Painting, 
and  Literature,  Music  happened  to  be  the  leading  horse, 
Larry  looked  upon  Tishy  with  eyes  in  which  a  new  ardour 
had  awakened,  and  proceeded  with  his  accustomed  speed  to 


MOUNT    MUSIC  125 

mature  the  details  of  the  concert  upon  which  he  had,  during 
the  last  sixty  seconds,  enthusiastically  decided. 

Old  Mrs.  Cantwell,  although  unpromising  of  aspect,  was 
by  no  means  as  deplorable,  socially,  as  Christian  had  assumed 
her  to  be.  The  fact  that  she  was  the  untramelled  owner  of 
a  soundly-invested  fifteen  thousand  pounds,  that  she  was  the 
aunt  whom  Dr.  Mangan  delighted  to  honour,  combined  with 
the  allied  fact  that  she  had  paid  for  the  hiring  of  the  picnic- 
bearing  wagonette,  gave  her  an  importance  that  could  be 
undervalued  only  by  one  as  ignorant  of  the  greater  concerns 
of  life  as  was  Christian.  Mrs.  Cantwell  accepted  the  com- 
panionship of  the  younges  Miss  Talbot-Lowry  as  no  more 
than  her  due,  and  the  thought  that  compassion  had  prompted 
its  bestowal,  was  very  far  from  her  mind.  None  the  less, 
the  Noah's  Ark  principles  that  governed  implicitly,  if  not 
ostensibly  Cluhir  entertainments  of  this  nature,  were  firmly 
embedded  in  her  being,  and  she  was  entirely  aware  of  the 
furtive  presence  of  Barty,  at  the  rear  of  the  procession  of 
which  she  and  Christian  formed  the  last  couple. 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  she  observed,  while  she  and  Christian 
paced  side  by  side,  along  the  river  path,  "  you  shouldn't  be 
wastmg  time  on  an  old  woman  like  me  !  When  I  was  young, 
we'd  have  called  this  a  Two  and  Two  party,  and  I  promise  you 
that  the  likes  o'  you  and  me  wouldn't  have  been  reckoned  a 
proper  couple  at  all  !     Not  when  /  was  a  girl  !  " 

**  /  should  have  said  that  you  and  I  were  irreproachably 
proper,  Mrs.  Cantwell,"  responded  Christian,  gaily  ;  **  it 
isn't  ver)^  kind  of  you  to  say  that  we  aren't  behaving 'as  we 
should  !  "  She  laughed  into  Mrs.  Cantwell's  old  face,  and 
she,  bemg  quite  unused  to  girls  who  took  the  trouble  to  flirt 
with  her,  began  to  think  that  Frankie  Mangan  (thus  she 
designated  her  nephew,  the  doctor)  was  right  when  he  said  that 
th2  youngest  of  the  Talbot-Lowrys  was  the  best  of  the  bunch. 

*'  Ho  !  Ho  !  Ho  !  "  she  said,  with  a  laugh  like  the  whinny 
of  an  old  horse  ;  "  it's  a  long  time  since  I  kicked  my  heels 
over  anything  higher  than  a  hearth-rug  !  But  I  can  tell  you, 
my  dear,  I  was  a  good  warrant  for  a  play-boy  when  I  was  your 
age  !  There  wasn't  a  young  girl,  no,  nor  a  young  man  either, 
that  I  couldn't  dance  down  if  I  gave  my  mind  to  it  !  " 

Christian's  response  was  satisfactory,  and  Mrs.  Cantwell, 
moved  to  give  a  sample  of  her  bygoue  prowess,  executed  a 


! 


126  MOUNT   MUSIC 

kippopotamus-like  hop  and  shuffle  among  the  rustling, 
orange  beech  leaves  of  last  year. 

*'  Polkas  and  Mazoorkas  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Them  was 
all  the  go  in  my  time  !  Come  on  here,  Barty,  ye  omadhaun  ! 
I  believe  I  could  dance  you  off  those  long  legs  of  yours  this 
minute,  if  I  was  to  give  me  mind  to  it  !  " 

Barty,  thus  adjured  by  his  great-aunt,  drew  near.  Mrs. 
Cantwell  was  not  a  person  to  be  lightly  disobeyed,  but  his 
dark  eyes  were  full  of  apprehension.  What  might  Aunt 
Bessie  not  say  !     She  was  incalculable,  terrible. 

There  are  old  people  who  appear  to  find  an  indemnity  for 
their  lost  youth  in  permitting  to  themselves,  in  dealing  with 
later  generations,  a  scarifying  freedom  of  humour  in  connec- 
tion with  subjects  which  once  they  held  sacred  (for  there  are 
few  souls  that  have  not  at  some  time  enshrined  a  tender 
emotion). 

Barty  had  suffered  before  now  from  Aunt  Bessy,  and  he 
thought  that  if  she  made  of  him  an  offence  to  Miss  Talbot- 
Lowry,  he  would  straightway  rush  into  the  river  and  drown 
himself.  Aunt  Bessy,  however,  potentially  Rabelaisian 
though  she  might  be,  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  fact  that 
there  is  a  time  to  speak  and  a  time  to  keep  silence. 

*'  See  here,  Barty,"  she  said,  "  let  you  go  on  now,  and  tell 
your  mother  not  to  be  waiting  tea  for  me.  I'll  take  me  own 
time.  Tell  her  never  fear  I'll  turn  up,  only  I  like  to  go  me 
own  pace  !  "  She  turned  to  Christian.  "  Go  on  you  too, 
my  dear  ;  I'm  well  enough  pleased  with  me  own  company, 
and  I  hate  to  be  delaying  you.  I'll  sit  down  for  a  while  and 
admire  the  scenery." 

Thus  did  Aunt  Bessy,  as  she  complacently  told  herself, 
watch  over  the  interests  of  her  great-nephew,  and  though  her 
method  was  crude,  it  indisputably  achieved  its  object. 

Christian  and  Barty  Mangan  walked  on  in  silence  that  was 
made  companionable  by  the  gurgling  whisper  of  the  river 
behind  its  screen  of  hazels  and  alders  ;  a  whisper  broken  now 
and  again  by  the  tittering  laugh  of  the  flying  water  over  a 
shallow  place,  like  someone  with  a  good  story  that  he  cannot 
quite  venture  to  tell  out  loud. 

Barty  was  saying  to  himself,  distractedly  :  "  What'U  I 
say  to  her  }  What'U  I  talk  to  her  about  ?  "  with  each  repeti- 
tion winding  himself,  like  a  cocoon,  deeper  in  webs  of  shyness. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  127 

Christian's  social  perceptions  were  hypersensitive,  and 
the  cris  de  cceur  of  her  suffering  companion  were  only  too 
audible  to  her  spiritual  ear  At  eighteen,  the  quality  of  mercy 
has  seldom  developed  ;  the  young  demand  mercy,  they  expect 
to  receive,  not  to  bestow  it  ;  but  in  this  girl  was  something 
that  made  her  different  from  her  fellows.  It  was  as  though 
a  soul  more  tempered,  more  instructed,  more  subtle  and 
refined,  had  been  given  to  her,  than  is  vouchsafed  to  the 
majority  of  the  poor  creatures  who  are  sent  into  this  difficult 
world  with  an  equipment  that  rarely  meets  its  demands. 

This  is  a  long-winded  way  of  saying  that  Christian  realised 
that  she  had  to  restore  confidence  in  Larry's  young  friend, 
and  that  she  proceeded  forthwith  to  do  so.  She  would  have 
laughed  at  the  thought  that  anyone  could  be  afraid  of  her, 
but  she  felt  instinctively  that  a  soothing  monologue,  a  sort 
of  cradle-song,  was  what  the  occasion  demanded  ;  so  she 
began  to  speak  of  the  bluebells,  the  woods,  the  weather, 
saying  with  a  sort  of  languid  simplicity,  the  things  that  the 
moment  suggested  ;  *'  babbling,"  as  she  subsequently 
assured  Judith,  *'  of  green  fields,"  until  she  had  so  lulled  and 
bored  him,  that  in  self-defence  he  produced  an  observation. 

"  D'you  read.  Miss  Christian  ?  "  said  Barty,  bringing  forth 
his  mouse  with  an  abrupt  and  mountainous  effort. 

Christian  repressed  the  reply  that  she  had  possessed  the 
accomplishment  for  some  years,  and  asked  for  further  infor- 
mation. 

'*  Poetry,"  said  Barty,  largely  ;  *'  it's — it's  the  only  reading 

I   care    for.      I  thought  you  might  like  it "  he  added, 

hurriedly,  and  was  again  wrapped  in  the  cocoon. 

"  Oh,  I  do,  very  much,"  said  Christian,  trying  hard  not  to 
quench  the  smoking  flax  ;  ''I've  iearnt  quantities  by  heart, 
and  Larry  is  always  lending  me  new  books  of  poetry.  He 
says  that  you  and  he  discuss  it  together." 

"  I  never  knew  one  like  him  !  "  said  Barty,  with  sudden 
energy.  '*  There's  no  subject  at  all  that  he's  not  interested 
in  !  "  In  the  heat  of  his  enthusiasm  for  Larry,  the  cocoon 
wrappings  were  temporarily  shrivelled.  He  turned  his  dark, 
short-sighted  eyes  on  Christian,  and  took  up  his  parable  with 
excitement. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  he's  learning  Irish  }  I'll  engage  it'll 
be  no  trouble  to  him  !  " 


128  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  He's  always  getting  hold  of  new  ideas,"  said  Christian  ; 
*'  I  wish  /  could  learn  Irish." 

**  There's  a  branch  of  the  Gaelic  League  in  Cluhir,"  said 
Barty,  eagerly.  "  There  are  a  lot  learning  Irish.  I  suppose 
you  wouldn't  be  disposed  to  become  a  member,  Miss 
Christian  .?  "     He  gazed  at  her  imploringly. 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  should  be  allowed,"  said  Christian, 
hesitatingly.  "  You  see  I've  only  just  come  home.  I've 
been  at  school  in  Paris  for  the  last  two  years " 

A  memory  of  a  ferocious  denunciation  of  the  Gaelic  League 
by  her  father  came  to  her  ;  she  wondered  what  Barty  would 
do  if  she  offered  him  one  of  the  profane  imitations  of  the  Major 
that  had  earned  for  her  the  laurels  of  the  school-room. 

"  Oh,  I'm  quite  sure  I  mightn't  become  a  Gaelic 
Leaguer  !  "  she  repeated,  beginning  to  laugh,  while  samples 
of  her  father's  rhetoric  welled  up  in  her  mind. 

Barty  thought  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  enchanting 
as  her  face,  as  she  looked  at  him,  laughing,  with  wavering 
lights,  filtered  through  young  beech  leaves,  in  her  eyes. 
He  felt  a  delirious  desire  to  show  her  that  he  was  not  a  tongue- 
tied  fool  ;  that  he  also,  like  Larry,  was  a  man  of  ideas. 

*'  I  wish  to  God  !  "  he  said,  with  the  disordered  violence 
of  a  shy  man,  "that  there  was  anny  league  or  society  in  Ireland 
that  would  override  class  prejudice,  and  oblitherate  religious 
bigotry  !  " 

He  had  snatched  a  paragraph  from  his  last  address  to  the 
Gaelic  Leaguers  of  Cluhir,  and  with  it  was  betrayed  into  the 
pronunciation  that  mastered  him  in  moments  of  excitement. 

Christian  said  to  herself  that  she  thanked  heaven  Judith 
wasn't  there  to  make  her  laugh. 

**  I  don't  think  I'm  a  religious  bigot,"  she  said,  with  a  faint 
tremor  in  her  voice,  "  but  one  never  knows  !  "  Her  head  was 
bent  down,  the  brim  of  her  large  hat  hid  her  face. 

Barty  was  stricken.  What  devil  had  possessed  him  ? 
She  was  hurt  !  She  was  a  Protestant,  and  in  his  cursed  folly 
he  had  made  her  think  he  was  reproaching  her  for  Bigotry. 
Good  God  !     What  could  he  do  ? 

Two  emotions,  hung,  as  it  were,  on  hair-triggers,  held  the 
stage.  In  Christian,  the  fiend  of  laughter  held  sway,  in  poor 
Barty,  the  angel  of  tears.  It  was  perhaps  well  for  them  both 
that  their  next  step  in  advance  took  them  round  a  bend  in 
the  path,  and  brought  them  face  to  face  with  the  picnic. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

Young  Mr,  Coppinger  had  been  well  inspired  in  his  selection 
of  a  site  for  the  entertainment.  The  trees  along  the  river's 
bank  had  ceased  for  a  space,  leaving  a  level  ring  of  grass, 
whereon  certain  Hmestone  boulders  had  scattered  themselves, 
with  the  deliberate  intention,  as  it  w^ould  seem,  of  providing 
seats  for  picnickers.  Across  that  fairy  circle  of  greenness 
a  small  vassal-stream  bore  its  tribute  waters  to  the  Ownashee, 
with  as  much  dignity  as  it  had  been  able  to  assume  in  the  forty 
level  yards  that  lay  between  its  suzerain  and  the  steep  glen 
down  which  it  had  flung  itself.  Not  only  had  young  Mr. 
Coppinger  been  so  gracious  as  to  provide  this  setting  for  the 
revel,  but  he  was  even  now  sacrificing  a  spotless  pair  of  white 
flannel  trousers  to  the  needs  of  the  company,  and  had  con- 
centrated on  the  cajolery  of  the  fire,  which,  obedient  to  the 
etiquette  that  rules  picnic  fires,  refused  to  consume  any 
fuel  less  stimulating  than  matches.  Other  of  the  young 
gentlemen  of  the  party,  including  the  half-twin,  Mr.  George 
Talbot-Lowry  (now  asub-lieut.  R.N.)  were  detailed  to  gather 
sticks,  a  duty  that  was  so  arranged  as  to  involve,  with  each 
load  of  firewood,  the  jumping  of  the  vassal-stream,  and  thus 
gave  opportunity  for  a  display  akin  to  that  of  the  jungle- 
cocks,  who,  naturalists  inform  us,  leap  emulatively  before 
their  ladies.  Prominent  among  these  was  that  youth  who, 
as  a  medical  student,  had  inspired  Miss  Mangan  in  flapper- 
hood,  with  an  admiration  for  his  gifts,  intellectual  and  physical, 
that  was  only  equalled  by  his  own  appreciation  of  these  advan- 
tages. His  opinion  remained  unchanged,  but  he  was  beginning 
to  fear  that  Tishy's  taste  was  deteriorating.  None  sprang 
more  lightly  across  that  little  stream,  or  commented  more 
humorously  on  men  and  things,  than  Captain  Edward 
Cloherty,  R.A.M.C.  ;  yet  Miss  Mangan,  to  whom  these 
exercises  were  dedicated,  remained  oblivious  of  them  and 
I  i2g 


130  MOUNT   MUSIC 

aloof,  apparently  wholly  absorbed  by  Martha-like  attentions 
with  regard  to  the  public  welfare,  and  particularly  those 
connected  with  the  fire.  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  Tishy 
had  had  to  rise  early  on  many  a  winter  morning  to  see  that 
her  father  should  go  forth  to  his  work  suitably  warmed  and 
fed.  Now,  with  scathing  criticisms  of  the  methods  of  Mr. 
Coppinger,  she  swept  him  from  his  position  as  stoker,  and,  as 
by  magic,  or  so  it  seemed  to  him,  the  sticks  blazed,  the  kettle 
began  to  sing.  Miss  Mangan's  skill  was  not  limited  to  the 
prosaic  lighting  of  material  fires  only.  With  the  two  most 
distinguished  young  men  of  the  party  at  her  feet,  she  rose  to 
the  height  of  all  her  various  powers.  The  fire  roared  and 
crackled,  the  kettle  bubbled,  and  Tishy's  grey  and  gleaming 
glances  through  the  smoke  were  like  a  succession  of  boxes 
of  matches,  cast  upon  the  responsive  fires  of  Larry's  and 
Georgy's  holiday  hearts. 

The  young  May  moon  has  often  been  a  factor  in  affairs  of 
the  heart  whose  importance  cannot  be  ignored.  It  is  true 
that  on  this  especial  afternoon  the  mischief  might  seem  to  have 
been  begun  before  she  could,  strictly,  have  been  held 
responsible  ;  none  the  less  her  madness  must  have  been  in 
the  air,  otherwise  it  is  difficult  to  account  for  the  joint  and 
simultaneous  overthrow  of  two  young  gentlemen  of  taste 
and  quality,  by  Miss  Tishy  Mangan. 

Georgy,  aged  but  19,  just  home  from  far  and  forlorn  seas, 
with,  as  the  poet  says,  a  heart  for  any  fate,  might  have  been 
excused  for  swallowing  any  good  provided  for  him  by  the 
gods,  whole,  and  without  criticism,  but  for  Mr.  St.  Lawrence 
Coppinger,  lately  come  of  age,  a  man  of  taste,  endowed  with 
special  finesse  of  feeling,  it  might  have  been  expected  that  a 
highly-coloured  peacock  butterfly  would  have  had  but  scant 
appeal.  In  fact,  one  is  driven  back  upon  the  young  May 
Moon  as  the  sole  plausible  explanation  of  the  fact  that,  on 
that  afternoon  of  bewitchment,  Tishy  Mangan  went  to  Larry's 
head. 

These  temporary  abberations  are  afflictions  for  which  the 
most  refined  young  men  must  occasionally  be  prepared,  and 
Larry's  overthrow  was  not  without  justification.  Quite  apart 
from  her  looks — and  anyone  would  have  been  forced  to  admit 
that  they  were  undeniable — there  was  her  voice,  the  true 
contralto  timbre^  thick  and  mellow,  dark  and  sweet,  like  heather 


MOUNT    MUSIC  131 

honey,  he  thought,  while  he  and  Georgy  sprawled  on  the  grass 
at  her  feet  (and  she  had  good  feet)  making  very  indifferent 
jokes,  in  that  exaggerated  travesty  of  an  Irish  brogue  which 
is  often  all  that  an  English  school  will  leave  with  Irish  boys, 
and  vieing  with  each  other  in  the  folly  proper  to  such  an 
occasion. 

*'  I  don't  see  your  shoe-buckles  !  "  Larry  said,  looking  from 
her  feet  to  her  lips,  with  a  meaning  and  impudent  lift  of  his 
blue  eyes.     "  Have  you  given  up  wearing  them  ?  " 

Tishy's  colour  deepened  ;  she  remembered  instantly  what 
she  was  meant  to  remember. 

*'  You're  regretting  the  choice  you  made,  are  you  ?  "  she 
said,  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  ''  Never  fear  !  The  buckles 
will  be  there  when  they're  wanted  !  " 

"  Don't  trouble  about  them  !  "  says  Larry,  tremendously 
pleased  with  his  success  as  a  flirtatious  man  of  the  world  ; 
"  I  don't  think  they  will  be  required  !  " 

It  is  necessary  to  have  attained  to  a  reasonably  advanced  age 
to  be  able  to  recognise  pathos  in  the  fatuities  that  so  frequently 
form  a  feature  of  love's  young  dream.  Christian,  listening 
with  one  ear  to  her  brother  and  cousin,  while  into  the  other 
the  genuine  idiom  of  her  native  land  flowed,  ardentlv,  from 
the  now  unsealed  lips  of  Barty  Mangan,  began  to  wonder 
why  the  boys  were  talking  like  stage  Irishmen  ;  Georgy,  she 
knew,  was  idiot  enough  for  anything,  but  she  had  to  admit 
to  herself  that  Larry,  also,  was  rather  overdoing  it.  Christian 
was  able  to  feel  amused,  but  she  also  felt,  quite  illogically,  that 
what  had  been  distaste  for  Tishy  Mangan  was  rapidly 
deepening  into  dislike. 

The  picnic  raged  on,  with  prodigious  eatings  and  drinkings, 
with  capsizings  of  teapots  in  full  sail,  with  disastrous  slaughter- 
ings of  insects  (disastrous  to  plates  and  tablecloths  rather  than 
to  the  insects)  with  facetious  doings  with  heated  tea-spoons 
and  pellets  of  bread,  with,  in  short,  all  that  Mrs.  Mangan 
and  her  fellow  hostesses  expected  of  a  truly  prosperous  picnic. 

Captain  Cloherty,  alone,  of  all  the  company,  failed  to  con- 
tribute his  share  to  the  sum  of  success.  He  sat  silent,  a  thing 
of  gloom,  the  lively  angle  of  whose  waxed,  red  moustache 
only  accentuated  the  downward  droop  of  the  mouth  beneath 
it.  But  the  skeleton  at  the  feast  has  its  uses,  if  only  as  a 
contrast,  and  Mrs.  Mangan,  who  was  more  observant  than 


132  MOUNT   MUSIC 

she  appeared  to  be,  noted  the  gloom  with  a  gratified  eye, 
and  being  entirely  aware  of  its  cause,  said  to  herself  with 
satisfaction  : 

"  Ha,  ha,  me  young  man  !  " 

This  picnic  was,  in  truth,  made  ever  memorable  in  the 
circle  of  Mrs.  Mangan's  friends  by  reason  of  the  triumph 
of  Tishy. 

**  Ah,  that  was  the  day  she  cot  the  two  birds  under  the 
one  stone  !  "  Great- Aunt  Cantwell  (who  did  not  care  for  her 
great-niece)  was  accustomed  to  say.  *'  Well  !  Such  goings- 
on  !  And  after  all,  Tishy's  nothing  so  much  out  of  the  way, 
for  all  Frankie  Mangan  thinks  the  world  should  die  down  before 
her  !  " 

The  two  birds  referred  to  were  still  fluttering  round  their 
captor,  when  a  new  element  was  added  to  the  party  in  the 
large  presence  of  "  Frankie  Mangan  "  himself.  The  Big 
Doctor  approached  slowly,  elephant-like  in  his  noiseless, 
rolling  gait,  impressive,  as  is  an  elephant,  in  size,  in  the 
feeling  he  imparted  of  restrained  strength,  of  intense 
intelligence,  masked,  as  in  an  elephant,  with  benevolence, 
and  held  watchfully  in  reserve. 

He  now  advanced  upon  the  scene  of  festivity  with  purpose 
in  his  manner. 

"  Now,  ladies  !  Let  me  tell  you  I'm  come  on  a  very 
unpopular  errand  !  To  apply  the  closure  !  I  think  you're 
all  sitting  out  here  long  enough  for  the  time  of  year. 
Remember  it's  only  May  !  " 

"  We're  more  likely  to  remember  it's  Mayn't  !  "  retorted 
Mrs.  Whelply,  who  was  a  recognised  wit,  and  opponent  of  the 
Big  Doctor.  "  Isn't  it  enough  for  him  to  bully  us  when  we're 
sick,  but  he  comes  tormenting  us  when  we're  well,  too  !  " 

Thus  she  appealed  to  her  fellow-matrons,  looking  round 
upon  them  for  support  with  a  festive  eye. 

*'  You'll  none  of  you  be  well  long,  if  you  don't  mind  your- 
selves !  "  answered,  with  equal  spirit,  the  Doctor,  with  a 
quiet  eye  on  his  daughter  and  her  attendant  swains. 

*  Why  then  I  have  a  sore  throat  this  minute  with  scolding 
Mr.  Coppinger  for  the  nonsense  he's  talking  !  "  declared 
Mrs.  Whelply.  "  Asking  me  to  sing  a  cawmic  at  the  concert 
he  says  he's  going  to  have  !  There's  no  fear  but  whatever  / 
sing  will  be  cawmic  enough  1  " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  133 

"  I'm  sure  I'll  have  great  pleasure  in  cauterising  you  !  " 
responded  the  Doctor,  gallantly  ;  "  but  if  you'll  take  my 
advice  now,  you  won't  want  so  much  of  it  later  on  !  " 

''  I  thought  you  were  going  to  take  me  on  the  river,"  said 
Tishy  in  a  low  voice  to  Larry,  looking  resentfully  at  her  father. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Larry,  quickly  ;  **  much 
better  than  the  river — we'll  go  back  to  the  house  and  dance  ! 
I'll  fix  it  up  with  your  father  !  " 

*'  Good  egg  !  "  said  Sub-Lieut.  Talbot-Lowry,  with  sea- 
manlike decision,  *'  Miss  Mangan  will  kindly  note  all  waltzes 
are  reserved  for  use  of  naval  officers  !  " 

**  Miss  Mangan  will  kindly  do  no  such  thing  !  "  returned 
that  young  lady,  dealing  a  flash  from  between  her  curled 
eyelashes  that  put  the  naval  officer  temporarily  out  of  action, 
so  devastating  was  its  eflfect. 

Had  not  Frederica  Coppinger,  resting  in  her  club  in  Dublin, 
after  a  severe  afternoon  with  her  dentist,  some  intuition, 
some  spirit-warning,  of  what  was  befalling  at  the  home  of 
her  ancestors  ?  I  believe  that  those  spear-thrusts  of  nerve- 
pain  that  assailed  her  just  before  dinner,  must  have  been  the 
result  of  the  wireless  summons  of  distress  sent  forth  to  her 
by  her  upper-housemaid. 

*'  What  next,  I  wonder,  will  Master  Larr^'  be  asking  for  ?  " 
said  the  upper  housemaid  to  the  cook.  *'  The  drawing-room 
carpet  pitched  into  the  study,  and  Miss  Coppinger's  own  room 
turned  upside  down  for  the  riff-raff  of  Cluhir  to  be  powdering 
their  noses  in  !  *  Haven't  she  no  powder  }  '  says  they. 
*  No  matter,'  says  the  Doctor's  daughter,  *  sure  I  have  a  book 
of  it  in  me  Httle  bag  !  '  " 

*'  I  wouldn't  at  all  doubt  her  !  "  said  the  cook,  saturninely, 
"  But  what's  the  drawn'-room  carpet  to  conjuring  a  supper 
out  of  me  pocket  in  five  minutes  }  I  ask  you  that,  Eliza 
Hosford  !  " 

None  the  less,  with  that  deep  loyalty  to  the  honour  of  the 
house  that  is  a  feature  in  Irish  domestic  life  as  wonderful  as 
it  is  touching,  the  staff  of  Coppinger's  Court  were  resolved 
that — as  they  say  in  China — the  face  of  Master  Larry  should 
not  be  blackened,  and  The  Riff-Raff  of  Cluhir  were 
served  with  a  ceremony  and  a  success  that  left  nothing  to 
be  desired. 

Dr.  Mangan  sat  in  a  very  large  armchair  in  front  of  a  big 


134  MOUNT   MUSIC 

fire  of  logs,  in  the  hall,  and  smoked  meditatively,  and  was 
seemingly  quite  unaware  of  the  couples  who  moved  past  him 
between  the  dances,  passing  out  through  the  open  hall-door 
into  the  moon-lit  May  night.  He  did  not  even  raise  an  eye- 
lid when  his  daughter  sailed  by  him,  as  she  did  many  times, 
with  the  ostentation  of  the  young  lady  who  is  aware  that  her 
prowess  is  the  subject  of  comment,  in  company,  alternately, 
with  the  two  captives  of  her  bow  and  spear  who  had  offered 
so  feeble  a  resistance  to  those  weapons.  Tishy  and  her 
father  alike  ascribed  her  victory  to  that  redoubtable  and  already 
creditably  battle-scarred  bow  and  spear  ;  they  neither  of 
them  recognised  the  acknowledgements  that  were  due  to 
a  certain  powerful  ally,  the  May  moon.  She  had  stolen  up 
the  sky  at  the  back  of  the  woods.  The  first  Larry  knew  of 
her  was  the  vast,  incredible,  pale  disc  behind  the  topmost 
boughs  of  the  pine  trees,  so  near  that  it  seemed  to  him  as 
though  the  crooked  black  branches  alone  were  holding  her 
back,  and  that  her  white  fire  that  was  pouring  through  them 
must  consume  them,  "  and  then  it  will  be  our  turn,"  he  said, 
seriously,  and  without  preamble,  to  Tishy. 

**  Our  turn  for  what  ?  "  asked  Tishy,  very  naturally. 

*'  Our  turn  to  be  resolved  into  moonshine.  You'll  see  me 
fading  away  into  silver  smoke  in  a  minute,"  replied  Larry. 
*'  Let's  get  out  of  this,  I'm  getting  frightened  !  Hold  my 
hand  tight  !  " 

"  Go  on  with  your  nonsense  !  "  said  Tishy.  *'  And  will 
you  tell  me  how  can  I  hold  your  hand  when  it's  round  my 
waist  ?  " 

Which  was  reasonable  enough,  and  may  be  taken  as  a 
sufficient  indication  of  what  the  moon  was  already  responsible 
for. 

A  point  of  red  light  moved  in  the  darkness  above  the  seat 
under  the  laurels,  to  which  they  were  repairing,  and  the  scent 
of  a  Virginian  cigarette  was  wafted  to  them. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  Tishy  whispered,  pressing  nearer  to  Larry ; 
but  she  was  agreeably  certain  that  it  was  the  gloomy  and 
misanthropic  Captain  Cloherty,  whose  place  of  refuge  they 
had  invaded. 

Christian,  meanwhile,  unlike  Captain  Cloherty,  was  con- 
scientiously endeavouring  to  enjoy  herself,  and  was  finding 
that  the  wheels  of  the  chariot  of  pleasure  drave  heavily. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  135 

That  Barty  Mangan  was  a  good  dancer  was  an  alleviation, 
but  among  those  stigmatised  by  Eliza  Hosford  as  the  riff- 
raff of  Cluhir,  those  now  forgotten  measures  of  the  first 
years  of  this  century,  the  prancing  barn-dance,  the  capering 
pas-de-quatrCy  lent  themselves  to  a  violence  that,  even  at  th« 
uncritical  age  of  eighteen.  Christian  found  overpowering. 
"  They  danced  like  the  Priests  of  Baal,"  she  told  Judith. 
"  One  expected  to  see  them  cut  themselves  with  knives  !  " 

The  information  that  the  dog-cart  had  come  for  her  w^as 
of  the  nature  of  a  release.  Barty  put  her  into  it.  The  May 
moon  shone  on  his  pale  face  as  he  looked  up  at  Christian, 
and  reverently  took  her  hand  in  farewell.  She  had  begun 
to  find  his  dark  and  humble  devotion  oppressive  ;  she  liked 
him,  which  did  not  prevent  her  from  thanking  heaven  when  he 
released  her  hand  from  a  pressure  that  had  lasted  longer 
than  he  knew.  He  stood  on  the  gravel  and  watched  the  depart- 
ing dog-cart  vanish,  like  a  ghostly  thing,  into  the  elusive 
mist  of  moonlight.  The  May  moon,  now  sailing  full  over- 
head, looked  with  a  broad  satisfaction  on  the  hardest  hit  of 
her  victims. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

At  intervals  in  all  histories  there  comes  a  pause,  in  which 
the  moralities  proper  to  the  occasion  are  assembled, 
expounded  and  expanded.  Such  a  moment  might  now  seem 
to  have  arrived,  its  theme  being  the  grain-of-mustard-seed-like 
character  of  the  Cluhir  picnic,  as  compared  with  the  events 
that  subsequently  dwelt  in  its  branches,  nesting  there,  and 
raising  up  other  events  that  flew  far  and  wide,  farther  and  wider 
than  they  can  here  be  followed.  But  since  moralities  appeal 
only  to  the  moral  (to  whom  they  are  superfluous)  it  seems 
advisable  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  primary  result,  which  was 
the  concert,  that  sprang  like  a  Phcenix  from  the  ashes  of  that 
fire  on  which  the  picnic  kettle  was  boiled. 

The  scheme  had  various  appeals  for  its  two  chief  promoters, 
young  Mr.  Coppinger  and  Sub-Lieut.  Talbot-Lowry,  R.N. 
Immanent  in  it  was  che  necessity  for  frequent,  almost  for  daily, 
visits  to  No.  6,  The  Mall,  Cluhir.  For  the  former  of  these 
gentlemen,  whose  acquaintance  with  the  Mangan  family 
was  now  of  long,  if  of  intermittent,  familiarity,  these  visits 
aflPorded  a  less  thrilling  emotion  than  they  held  for  the  latter, 
who  found  himself  honoured  and  welcomed  in  a  degree  to 
which  he  was  quite  unaccustomed  at  home.  Larry  was  not 
quite  sure  that  he  approved  of  this  blaze  of  social  success 
for  his  young  cousin.  It  is  one  thing  to  receive,  languidly, 
the  adulation  of  those  in  whom  such  adulation  may  be  regarded 
as  an  indication  of  a  widening  horizon  ;  but  when  an  equal 
veneration  is  lavished  upon  the  junior  and  disdained  play- 
fellow of  earlier  years,  the  result  is  often  a  reconsideration 
of  values.  The  May  madness  that  rose  like  a  mist  from  the 
bluebells  in  the  woods  of  the  Ownashee,  and  culminated  in 
the  magical  light  of  the  full  moon,  began  to  lift  from  the  spirit 
of  young  Mr.  Coppinger,  leaving  him,  as  he  formulated  it  to 
himself  (and  found  much  satisfaction  in  the  formula)  bereft, 

136 


MOUNT   MUSIC  137 

bored,  and  benignant.  He  was  quite  prepared  to  retire 
gracefully  in  favour  of  Georgy,  and  was  pleased  with  the 
thought  that  his  interest  in  Tishy  had  been  merely  the  out- 
come of  a  mood — Vapres-midi  d'unfaune — so  to  speak.  There 
was  something  artistic  in  these  transient  emotions,  and  his 
future,  as  at  present  determined,  was  to  be  devoted  to  art  ; 
certainly  not  to  Tishy  Mangan.  Yes,  he  would  leave  Tishy 
to  Georgy ;  all  but  her  voice ;  in  that,  as  an  artist,  he  still 
retained  an  interest,  the  interest  of  the  impresario,  whose 
search  for  stars  is  as  absorbing  as  is  that  of  the  astronomer 
in  pursuit  of  new  worlds. 

The  passion  and  energy  of  the  promoter  are,  it  may  be 
supposed,  born  in  human  beings  in  a  certain  proportion 
to  those  who  are  to  become  their  victims.  In  Larry,  both 
qualities  were  highly  developed,  and  in  no  way  did  he  prove 
the  genuineness  of  his  heaven-given  flair  more  surely  than 
in  his  discovery  and  annexation  of  Christian,  as  that  rare  and 
precious  thing,  a  sympathetic  and  capable  accompanist. 

But  although  the  thought  of  dwelling  upon  this  and  other 
of  the  details  of  the  Cluhir  concert,  is  appealing,  it 
must  be  dismissed.  So  much  has  already  been  said  in  the  hope 
that  some  further  indications  as  to  the  character  and  conduct 
of  some  of  our  young  friends  may  have  been  deduced  ;  but 
now,  certain  glossings  upon  the  household  of  Mount  Music 
must  be  inflicted,  since  it  is  with  it,  rather  than  with  the 
capabilities  of  young  Mr.  Coppinger's  troupe,  that  we  are 
mainly  occupied. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  process  of  emergence  from 
the  sheath  of  childhood,  a  condition  that  has  characteristics 
more  or  less  common  to  us  all,  is  more  interesting  to  feel 
than  to  observe.  In  Christian's  case,  the  interest  was  felt 
exclusively  by  herself,  her  family  being  healthily  absorbed 
in  the  conjugation  of  the  three  primary  verbs,  to  be,  to  do, 
and  to  have,  in  relation,  exclusively,  to  themselves,  and  that 
merely  from  the  skin  outwards.  Soul-processes  and  develop- 
ments were  unknown  to  them  in  life,  and  were  negligible 
in  books.  Lady  Isabel  pursued  her  blameless  way,  doing 
nothing  in  particular,  dihgently  and  unpunctually,  and  spend- 
ing much  time  in  writing  long  and  loving  letters  to  those  of 
her  family  who  were  no  longer  beneath  her  wing,  in  that 
particular  type  of  large  loose  handwriting  whose    indefinite 


138  MOUNT   MUSIC 

spikes  stab  to  the  heart  any  hope  of  Hterary  interest.  Who 
shall  say  that  she  did  not  do  her  duty  according  to  her  lights  ? 
But  she  was  certainly  quite  unconscious  of  such  matters  as 
soul-processes. 

Alone  of  the  Mount  Music  children,  Christian  was  aware 
of  an  inner  personality  to  be  considered,  some  spirit  that  heard 
and  responded  to  those  voices  and  intimations  that,  as  a  little 
child,  she  had  accepted  as  a  commonplace  of  every  day. 
By  the  time  that  she  was  sixteen  the  voices  had  been  dis- 
couraged, if  not  stilled,  their  intimations  dulled  ;  but  she  had 
discovered  her  soul,  and  had  discovered  also,  that  it  had  been 
born  on  the  farther  side  of  the  river  of  life  from  the  souls 
of  her  brethren,  and  that  although,  for  the  first  stages,  the 
stream  was  narrow,  and  the  way  on  one  bank  very  like  that 
on  the  other,  the  two  paths  were  divided  by  deep  water, 
and  the  river  widened  with  the  passing  years. 

Richard,  pursuing  the  usual  course  of  Irish  eldest  sons, 
had  adopted  the  profession  least  adapted  for  young  men  of 
small  means,  and  large  spending  capacity,  and  had  gone  into 
his  father's  old  regiment.  John,  the  zealot  of  an  earher 
day,  was  at  Oxford,  considering  the  Church  ;  Georgy's  career 
has 'been  announced,  and  the  remaining  twin  had,  with  the 
special  predisposition  of  his  family  towards  financial  failure, 
selected  the  profession  of  land-agent,  in  a  country  in  which 
peasant-proprietorship  was  already  in  the  air,  and  would  soon 
become  an  accompHshed  fact.  t   j-  t. 

There  remains,  to  complete  the  family  history,  Judith, 
and  she,  now  aged  twenty-one,  was  possibly  the  sole  member 
of  the  house  of  Talbot-Lowry  for  whom  a  successful  future 
might  confidently  be  anticipated.  Judith,  a  buccaneer  by 
nature  and  by  practice,  was  habitually  engaged  in  swash- 
bucklering  it  on  a  round  of  visits.  She  was  good-looking, 
tall,  talkadvc,  and  an  able  player  of  all  the  games  proper  to 
the  state  of  life  to  which  she  had  been  called.  She  was  a 
competent  guest,  giving  as  much  entertainment  as  she 
received,  being  of  those  who  contribute  as  efficiently  indirectly, 
as  directly,  to  conversation,  and  are  normally  involved  in 
one  of  those  skirmishes  of  the  heart,  that  cannot  be  described 
as  engagements,  but  that,  none  the  less,  invest  their  heroines 
with  an  atmosphere  of  respect,  and  provide  hostesses  with 
subjects  of  anxiety  and  interest.     At  an  early  age,  Christian 


MOUNT    MUSIC  139 

was  promoted  by  her  elder  sister  to  the  position  of  confidante, 
and  justified  the  promotion  by  the  happy  mixture  of  sympathy 
and  cynicism  with  which  she  received  the  confidences.  She 
was  now  well  versed  in  the  brief  passions  that,  beginning  at 
the  second  or  third  dance  of  a  regimental  ball,  would,  like 
some  night-flowering  tropic  blossom,  arrive  at  full  splendour 
by  supper  time,  and  would  expire  languorously,  to  the  strains 
of  "  God  save  the  King."  Christian,  though  young,  was,  as 
has  been  said,  a  capable  audience.  She  could  listen,  with 
the  severe  and  youthful  grace  that  seemed  to  set  her  a 
httle  apart  from  others  of  her  standing,  to  the  feats  of  Judith 
and  her  fellow-blackguards,  savouring  and  appraising  the 
absurdities,  and  her  comments  upon  them  were  oflPercd  with 
a  sympathetic  and  skilled  comprehension  that  excused  her 
in  Judith's  eyes  for  her  lack  of  ambition  to  emulate  them. 

Dick  Talbot-Lowry  had  ceased  to  boast  of  the  predominance 
of  the  masculine  gender  among  his  oflPsprings,  and  rarely 
alluded  to  his  sons  without  coupling  with  their  names  a 
vigorous  statement  of  how  far  in  excess  of  their  value  was  their 
cost,  usually  ending  with  an  enquiry  into  the  dark  rulings  of 
Providence,  who  had  bestowed  an  expensive  family  with  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  had  taken  away  the  means  of  sup- 
porting it.  Dick  was  sixty-four  now,  an  unhappy  moment 
in  a  dashing  and  artless  career,  with  the  shadow  of  advancing 
old  age  blighting  and  reproving  the  still  ardent  enjoyment  of 
the  pleasures  of  youth. 

'*  I'm  an  old  man  now  !  "  Dick  would  say,  without  either 
feeling  or  meaning  it,  and  would  bitterly  resent  the  failure 
of  his  sons  to  contradict  a  statement  with  which  they  were  in 
complete  agreement.  Only  Christian,  "  of  all  his  halls  had 
nursed,"  tried  to  maintain  her  father  in  a  good  conceit  of 
himself,  and  to  "  rise  his  heart  "  ;  but  there  are  few  hearts 
for  which  it  is  more  difficult  to  perform  that  office  than  the 
heart  of  a  man,  who,  having  ever  (as  King  David  says)  taken 
pleasure  in  the  strength  of  horses,  and  dehghted  in  his  own 
legs,  is  beginning  to  find  that  the  former  have  become  too 
strong,  and  the  latter  too  weak  for  either  comfort  or  confidence. 

And  not  these  things  only  were  troubling  Dick.  The 
common  lot  of  Irish  landlords,  and  Pterodactyli,  was  upon 
him,  and  he  was  in  process  of  becoming  extinct.  It  was  his 
fate  to  see  his  income  gradually  diminishing,  being  eaten 


140  MOUNT    MUSIC 

away,  as  the  sea  eats  away  a  bulwark-less  shore,  by  successive 
Acts  of  Parliament,  and  the  machinery  they  created,  "  for 
the  purpose,"  as  old  Lord  Ardmore  was  fond  of  fulminating, 
of  "  pillaging  loyal  Peter  in  order  to  pamper  rebel  Paul  !  " 
The  opinion  of  very  old,  and  intolerant,  and  indignant  peers 
cannot  always  be  taken  seriously,  but  it  is  surely  permissible 
to  feel  a  regret  for  kindly,  improvident  Dick  Talbot-Lowry, 
his  youth  and  his  income  departing  together,  and  the  civic 
powers  that  he  had  once  exercised,  reft  from  him.  Such 
power  as  he  had  had,  he  had  exercised  honourably  and  with 
reverent  confidence  in  precedent,  and  when  he  had  damned 
Parnell,  and  had  asserted,  in  stentorian  tones,  that  Cromwell 
was  the  only  man  who  had  ever  known  how  to  govern  Ireland, 
and  he,  unfortunately,  was  now  in  hell  ;  where,  the  Major 
would  add,  he  was  probably  better  off,  his  contribution  to 
constructive  politics  had  ended.  He  and  his  generation, 
reactionaries  almost  to  a  man,  instead  of  attempting  to  ride 
the  waves  of  the  rising  tide,  subscribed  their  guineas  to 
construct  breakwaters  that  were  pathetic  in  their  futility. 
Gallant  in  resistance,  barren  in  expedient,  history  may  con- 
demn the  folly  of  the  Old  Guard  of  the  *'  English  Garrison,' 
but  it  cannot  deny,  even  though  it  may  deride,  its  fidelity. 


CHAPTER   XX 

Lady  Isabel  Talbot-Lowry  had  invited  what  is  concisely 
spoken  of  as  "  people  "  to  tea  and  tennis.  The  month  was 
June,  but  the  weather  was  March,  or  at  best,  a  sullen  and  over- 
cast April.  The  purport  of  the  entertainment  had  been  the 
exhibition,  to  rival  amateurs,  of  the  Mount  Music  herbaceous 
borders,  which,  though  "  not  looking  quite  their  best,"  were 
as  nearly  approximating  to  that  never-achieved  ideal,  as  is 
ever  the  case  with  either  gardens  or  children  ;  but  showers  of 
chill  rain  had  marred  the  display,  and  the  lawn  tennis  was 
fitful,  and  subject  to  frequent  interruption.  In  these  circum- 
stances, a  fire  of  turf  and  logs  did  not  need  apologies  for  its 
presence,  and  Lady  Isabel  and  her  companion  Heads  of 
Households  sat  with  it  as  their  focal  point,  and  thought,  as 
they  saw  the  players  flitting  to  and  fro  between  the  showers, 
and  the  house,  and  the  lawn  tennis  grounds,  that  middle  age 
had  privileges  that  were  not  to  be  despised. 

The  long  and  lofty  drawing-room  of  Mount  Music  was  a 
pleasant  place  enough,  even  on  this  showery  day.  Some 
five  or  six  generations  of  Talbot-Lowrys  had  lived  in  it,  and 
left  their  marks  on  it,  and  though  the  indelible  hand  of 
Victoria,  in  youthful  vigour,  had  had,  perhaps,  the  most 
perceptible  influence  on  it  as  a  whole,  the  fancies  and  fashions 
of  Major  Dick's  great-grandmother  still  held  their  places. 
An  ottoman,  huge  as  a  merry-go-round  at  a  fair,  immovable 
as  an  island,  occupied,  immutably,  the  space  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  immediately  under  a  great  cut-glass  chandeher. 
Facing  it  was  the  fireplace,  an  afl"air  of  complicated  design, 
with  "  Nelson  ropes  "  and  knobs,  and  coils,  in  worked  and 
twisted  brass,  and  deep  hobs,  in  whose  construction  the  needs 
of  a  punch-kettle  had  not  been  forgotten.  Above  it,  a  high, 
deHcately-inlaid  marble  mantelpiece,  brought  from  Italy  by 
Dick's  great-grandfather,  was  surmounted  by  a  narrow  ledge 

141 


142  MOUNT   MUSIC 

of  marble,  just  wide  enough  to  support  the  base  of  a  Georgian 
mirror  of  flamboyant  design,  in  whose  dulled  and  blueish 
depths  were  reflected  the  row  of  old  white  china  birds,  that 
were  seated,  each  on  its  own  rock,  on  the  shelf  in  front  of  it. 
Family  portraits  in  frames  whose  charm  of  design  and  colour 
made  atonement  for  the  indifference  of  the  painting,  alternated 
with  brown  landscapes  in  which  castles,  bridges,  and 
impenetrable  groves  were  dimly  to  be  discovered  through 
veils  of  varnish  ;  flotillas  of  miniatures  had  settled,  like 
groups  of  flies,  wherever  on  the  crowded  walls  foothold 
could  be  found,  and  water-colours,  pencil-drawings,  and 
photographs,  filled  any  remaining  space.  There  were  long 
and  implacable  sofas,  each  with  its  conventional  sofa- 
table  in  front  of  it  ;  Empire  consoles,  with  pieces  of  china 
incredibly  diverse  in  style,  beauty,  and  value,  jostling  each 
other  on  the  marble  slabs  ;  woolwork  screens,  worked  by 
forgotten  aunts  and  grandmothers,  chairs  of  every  known 
breed,  and  tables,  tables  everywhere,  and  not  a  corner  on 
one  of  them  on  which  anything  more  could  be  deposited. 
The  claims  of  literature  were  acknowledged,  but  without 
enthusiasm.  A  tall,  glass-fronted  cupboard,  inaccessibly 
placed  behind  the  elongated  tail  of  an  early  grand  piano, 
was  filled  with  ornate  miniature  editions  of  the  classics,  that 
would  have  defied  an  effort — had  such  ever  been  made — 
to  remove  them  from  their  shelves,  whereon  they  had 
apparently  been  bedded  in  cement,  like  mosaic.  It  was  a 
room  that,  in  its  bewildering  diversity,  might  have  broken 
the  hearts  of  housemaids  or  decorators  ;  untidy,  without 
plan,  with  rubbish  contending  successfully  with  museum- 
pieces,  with  the  past  and  present  struggling  in  their  eternal 
rivalry  ;  yet,  a  human  place,  a  place  full  of  the  magnetism  that 
is  born  of  past  happiness,  a  place  to  which  all  its  successive 
generations  of  sons  and  daughters  looked  back  with  that 
softening  of  the  heart  that  comes,  when  in,  perhaps,  a  far- 
away country,  memories  of  youth  return,  and  with  them  the 
thought  of  home. 

The  ladies  who,  constant  to  the  saner  pleasures  of  conversa- 
tion and  tea,  had  disposed  themselves  round  and  about 
Lady  Isabel's  tea-table,  were  of  the  inner  circle  of  the  friends 
of  the  house,  and  owned,  as  is  usually  the  case  where  habits 
and  environment  are  practically  identical,  a  common  point 


MOUNT    MUSIC  143 

of  view,  and  no  more  diversity  of  opinion  than  is  enough  to 
stimulate  conversation.  Such  of  them  as  had  compelled 
husbands  or  sons  to  accompany  them,  had  shaken  them  off 
at  the  lawn  tennis  ground,  and  though  loud  cawings  from 
the  hall  indicated  that  certain  of  the  more  elderly  males  had 
congregated  there,  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room  had,  so 
far,  been  "  unmolested  by  either  the  young  people  or  the  men." 

Thus,  Miss  Frederica  Coppinger  phrased  it  to  those  of 
her  allies  with  whom  she  was  now  holding  sweet  communion. 
The  allies,  albeit  separated  by  intervals  of  from  five  to  ten 
miles  of  rough  and  often  hilly  road,  met  with  sufficient 
frequency  to  keep  touch,  yet  not  often  enough  to  crush  the 
ultimate  fragrance  from  the  flower  of  gossip.  Their  most 
recent  meeting  had  taken  place  at  the  concert,  which  had  been 
Larry's  last  achievement  before  his  return  to  Oxford,  and 
although  they  had  not  been  oppressively  hampered  by  the 
convention  of  silence  at  such  entertainments,  conversation 
had  been  necessarily  somewhat  thwarted. 

*'  They  made  quite  a  useful  little  sum  at  Larry's  concert/' 
said  Frederica.  "  Local  charities — which  meant  the  Fowl 
Fund,  of  course — and  Mr.  Cotton  and  Father  Greer.  Dick 
said  he  would  not  support  it  if  his  old  women  were  not 
helped — abominable  cheats  though  most  of  them  are  !  " 

**  I  feel  for  them  !  "  said  Mrs.  Kirby,  intensely.  "  No 
one  knows  the  misery  and  the  beggary  inflicted  on  me  by  the 
foxes  that  Bill  encourages  about  the  place  !  " 

A  sympathetic  imagination  enabled  her  friends  to  realise 
the  misery  and  beggary  which  Mrs.  Kirby's  exceedingly 
cheerful  and  prosperous  appearance  concealed.  Both 
groaned  appropriately,  and  Miss  Coppinger  made  the  sweep- 
ing statement  that  she  detested  hunting  in  all  its  ramifications. 
*'  We  are  always  told  that  its  great  merit  is  that  it  brings  all 
classes  together,"  she  continued.  **  In  my  opinion  that  is 
a  very  dubious  advantage,  if,  indeed,  it  is  not  a  drawback  !  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  permitted  her  glance  to  commune  for  a  brief 
instant  with  that  of  the  third  lady,  Mrs.  St.  George. 

*'  Like  mixed  concerts  !  "  said  Mrs.  St.  George,  in  a  deep 
and  awful  voice. 

*'  Mixed  pickles  !  "  murmured  Mrs.  Kirby,  and  chuckled 
at  her  jest. 

Miss  Frederica  flushed. 


144  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  My  dear  Louisa,"  she  said,  resentfully,  "  I  am  perfectly 
aware  of  their  disadvantages,  but  I  should  be  obliged  to  you 
if  you  would  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do  !  It  is  the  difference  in 
religion  that  makes  me  powerless.  Powerless  !  "  she  repeated 
looking  almost  with  triumph  upon  her  companions,  so  irrefut- 
able was  her  case. 

*'  I  hope  I'm  not  a  bigot,"  said  Mrs.  St.  George 
impressively  ;  **  but  I  thank  God  I'm  not  a  Roman 
Catholic  !  " 

*'  '  Not  as  other  men  are  '  !  "  quoted  Miss  Coppinger, 
with  some  acidity.  Even  though  she  agreed  with  the  senti- 
ment, she  could  not  forget  that  Larry  was  her  nephew. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  the  actual  religion  I  was  thinking  of,"  said 
Mrs.  St.  George,  rather  hurriedly,  Larry's  disadvantages 
having  temporarily  escaped  her  memory.     **  It  was  rather — 

well " 

*'  For  boys  it  doesn't  matter  so  much,"  broke  in  Mrs. 
Kirby,  "  but  I  really  did  dislike  seeing  Christian  on  the  plat- 
form with  that  party  !  " 

"  She  was  only  playing  accompaniments,"  said  Miss 
Coppinger,  still  resentful. 

"  That  only  made  it  worse  !  If  she  had  sung  a  solo  it 
would  have  been  less  humiliating,"  replied  Mrs.  Kirby, 
with  a  masterly  change  of  front.  *'  I  was  indignant  ! 
Christian,  with  her  charming  voice,  only  playing  accompani- 
ments and  singing  in  the  glees,  and  that  unendurable  Mangan 
girl  posing  as  the  Prima  Donna,  and  oh  !  her  clothes  !  " 

*'  Or  her  want  of  them  !  "  interposed  Mrs.  St.  George,  on 
a  profound  bass  note. 

"  And  her  songs  I  I  don't  profess  to  know  much  about 
music,  but  I  do  know  what  I  like  !  "  continued  Mrs.  Kirby, 
with  the  finality  and  decision  that  usually  accompany  this 
admission.  "  People  may  tell  me  she  has  a  fine  voice,  but  I 
detest  enormous  contralto  voices  !  What  I  suffered  during 
the  last  thing  she  sang  as  an  encore  !  And  that  final  yell 
of  *  Asthore  '  ! — at  least  an  octave  above  her  voice  !  I  could 
only  think  of  the  bellow  of  the  cow  that  jumped  over  the 
moon  ! " 

"  What  made  me  indignant,"  said  Mrs.  St.  George,  in 
emulous  depreciation,  ignoring  this  flight  of  fancy,  '*  was 
their  not  having  *  God  save  the  King  *  !     A  cowardly  conces- 


MOUNT   MUSIC  145 

sion  to  the  Gaelic  League,  of  course  !     I  really  think  that 
Georgy,  who  is  in  the  Navy,  might  have  insisted  upon  it  !  " 

"  They  did  discuss  it,"  said  Frederica,  forced  by  her  friends 
into  the  position  of  devil's  advocate,  "  but  they  were  afraid 
of  the  sixpenny  seats.  The  Mangans  said  that  there  would 
inevitably  be  rows.  They  have  nad  to  give  up  having  it 
at  anything  now." 

This  was  unanswerable,  and  Mrs.  St.  George  tacitly 
accepted  defeat. 

*'  I  believe  that  young  Mangan  is  simply  a  Rehel,''^  resumed 
Mrs.  Kirby,  portentously.  "  Bill  thinks  he'll  go  too  far 
some  day,  and  the  police  will  have  to  take  notice  of  him. 
But  with  the  Government  yielding  and  pandering " 

Here,  at  least,  was  a  subject  on  which  all  three  disputants 
were  in  complete  agreement.  Wolfe  Tone  or  Robert  Emmet 
could  hardly  have  abhorred  the  Government  of  England 
more  heartily  than  did  these  three  respectable,  law-abiding, 
unalterably-Unionist  ladies,  and  for  some  time  the  more  recent 
enormities  of  the  rule  upon  which  they  theoretically  bestowed 
their  unshakable  allegiance,  took  precedence  of  Miss  Mangan 
as  a  subject  of  disapproval. 

"  Nevertheless,"  summed  up  Mrs.  St.  George,  gloomily, 
at  the  end  of  a  sweeping  condemnation,  *'  we  must  submit. 
We  can  do  nothing.  As  Courtney  says,  we  can't  cut  off 
cows'  tails  and  shoot  our  tenants  for  not  paying  their  rent  ! 
He  says " 

Colonel  St.  George's  further  views  were  lost  in  the  entrance 
of  the  lawn  tennis  players,  rain-sprinkled,  heated,  bringing 
with  them  a  lively  aroma  of  trodden  grass  and  wet  flannel, 
and  convinced  of  their  superiority  to  those  who  had  sought 
shelter,  and  were  now  (to  quote  Miss  Talbot-Lowry)  soddenly 
eating  all  the  hot  cakes.  Judith  had  recently  returned  from 
one  of  her  forays,  and  had  not  spared  her  family  her  views 
on  the  rapprochement  with  the  musical  world  of  Cluhir 
that  the  concert  had  involved.  She  was  now  seated  with  Bill 
Kirby  on  a  secluded  sofa  in  a  corner  of  the  long  drawing- 
room,  and  was  entertaining  that  deeply-enamoured  young 
man  with  her  accustomed  fluency. 

Mr.  Kirby,  having  petted  and  patronised  Judith  in  her 
iyouth,  when  he  was  still  nine  years  older  than  she,  had,  since  her 
recent  return,  awakened  to  the  fact  that  this  difference  in  age 


146  MOUNT   MUSIC 

had  been  mysteriously  obliterated,  and  that  at  present, 
Judith  was  not  only  his  superior  in  intelligence,  but  also  in 
all  those  subsidiary  matters  in  which  age  is  generally  and 
erroneously  believed  to  confer  an  advantage. 

"  If  it  had  even  been  a  good  concert,"  Judith  remarked, 
gobbling  tea  and  cake  with  a  heartiness  that,  taken  in  con- 
nection with  an  admirable  complexion  and  very  clear  blue 
eyes,  was  in  itself  attractive  to  a  hungry  young  man,  "I  could 
have  borne  it  better.  But  it  was  absolutely  deadly — all  but 
just  our  own  people's  turns,  of  course — a  sort  of  lyrical 
geography — the  map  of  Ireland  set  to  music  !  Bantry  Bay, 
Killarney,  the  Mountains  of  Somewhere,  the  Waters  of 
Somewhere  else,  all  Irish,  of  course  !  I  get  so  sick  of  Ireland 
and  her  endearing  young  charms — and  all  the  entreaties  to 
Erin  to  remember  !     As  if  she  ever  forgot  !  " 

'*  She  remembers  her  enemies,  all  right,"  rejoined  Bill 
Kirby,  gloomily,  "  but  she  forgets  her  friends  !  I  know 
someone  who  hasn't  got  any  enemies  to  remember,  but  she's 
just  like  Ireland  in  one  way  !  " 

"  What  way  ? "  demanded  Judith,  "and  who  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well  who  I  mean  !  And  the  reason  she's 
like  Ireland  is  that  she  forgets  her  friends  !  People  who  used 
to  give  her  leads  out  hunting  when  she  was  a  little  girl, 
and  never  forgot  her  !  " 

**  In  the  first  place,  I  deny  it,  and  in  the  second  place,  it 
serves  them  right  if  she  does  forget  them"  replied  Judith 
tranquilly  ;  "I  don't  know  the  injured  beings  you  refer  to, 
but  I  do  know  my  own  family.  I  take  my  eye  off  them  for 
five  minutes,  and  I  come  home  to  find  they  have  not  only 
forgotten  my  existence,  but  they  have  plunged  into  the  heart 
of  that  appalling  Cluhir  crowd,  and  are  indignant  with  me — 
at  least  the  boys  and  papa  are — because  I  don't  do  the 
same  !     Strange  as  it  may  appear,  /  like  nice  people  !  " 

*'  I  wasn't  talking  of  your  family,"  said  Bill  Kirby,  morosely, 
*'  Hang  it  all  !  Pm  quite  a  nice  person,  and  /  haven't  plunged 
into  the  heart  of  Cluhir,  but  it's  only  by  a  sort  of  accident, 
like  this,  that  you  will  ever  say  a  word  to  me  !  " 

"  You'd  better  insure  against  accidents  of  this  kind  !  " 
said  Judith,  who  was  frankly  enjoying  herself ;  "  and  if  you 
choose  to  renounce  the  charms  of  Cluhir,  you  needn't  make  a 


MOUNT    MUSIC  147 

virtue  of  it  !     Perhaps  they  don't  want  you  !     They  mayn't 
reaHse  what  a  nice  person  you  are  !     Would  you  hke  me  to 

explain  to  Tishy  Mangan " 

Bill  Kirby,  who  was  possessed  of  good  brown  eyes  and  a 
profile  like  a  handsome  battle-axe,  was  a  young  man  of  no 
special  intellectual  gifts,  but  the  sound  judgment  that  dis- 
tinguished him  in  the  hunting-field  was  wont  to  stand  his 
friend  in  other  emergencies.  He  was  entirely  aware  that  he 
was  no  match  for  Judith  in  debate,  but  he  was  also  aware 
that  deeds  sometimes  speak  louder  than  words.  He  attempted 
no  spoken  reply,  but  after  a  wary  glance  round  the  room, 
he  permitted  his  large,  brown  hand  to  descend  upon  and 
envelop  Judith's,  that  rested  on  the  sofa  beside  him. 

**  You  know  you're  talking  rot,"  he  murmured,  cautiously, 
"  No,  don't  struggle.  If  you  say  things  hke  that,  you've 
got  to  be  punished.     Are  you  sorry  }  " 

"  Not  in  the  least  !  "  replied  Judith,  with  an  equal  caution  ; 
"but  you  will  be,  soon  !     Mrs.  St.  George  is  looking  at  you  !" 
The  battle-axe  profile  of  Mr.  Kirby  betrayed  no  hint  of 
the  situation. 

*'  Keep  quiet,  and  say  you're  sorry  !  /  don't  mind  sitting 
here  all  the  afternoon — like  this,"  he  added,  with  a  slight 
additional  pressure. 

"  I  shall  count  three,"  said  Judith  suavely,  *'  and  then  I 
shall  ask  you  in  a  loud,  clear  voice  to  get  me  another  cup  ot 

tea.     One " 

Further  developments  of  the  situation  need  not  be 
attempted,  the  more  so  as  at  this  juncture  the  entrance  of 
two  uninvited  guests  caused  a  redistribution  of  seats,  whose 
most  marked  feature  was  the  creation  of  a  desert  space  round 
the  new  arrivals  and  their  hostess. 

It  would  perhaps  be  irregular  to  say  that  the  Reverend 
Matthew  and  Mrs.  Cotton  were  the  incumbents  of  the  parish 
church  of  Cluhir  (and  had  been  profanely  described  as  "  the 
incumbrance  of  Cluhir ")  ;  even  to  speak  of  them  as, 
respectively,  its  curate  and  its  rector,  might,  though  more 
accurate,  be,  perhaps,  considered  flippant.  It  would  also 
be  open  to  the  reproach  of  lack  of  originality.  Yet, 
unoriginal  though  the  dominant  clergywoman  of  fiction  may 
be,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  St.  Paul's  injunctions  in  connec- 
tion with  the  subjection  of  wives  did  not  commend  themselves 


148  MOUNT   MUSIC 

to  Mrs.  Cotton.  It  may  be,  indeed,  that  her  views  on 
matrimony,  being  more  instructed,  were  sounder  than  those 
of  St.  Paul,  and  she  could  at  least  argue  that  had  he  been 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Cotton  he  might  have  modified  them. 
In  any  case,  whatever  St.  Paul  might  think  about  it,  Mrs. 
Cotton  was  quite  sure  that  she  was  better  fitted  than  was  her 
husband  to  deal  with  the  matter  that  had  brought  them  to 
Mount  Music. 

She  did  not,  however,  as  becomes  a  sound  tactician, 
approach  the  point  with  undue  directness.  Lady  Isabel 
had  sent  her  daughters  to  school  in  Paris  ;  Lady  Isabel  had, 
on  a  bygone  occasion,  been  goaded  by  Mrs.  Cotton  into  a 
declaration  that  her  servants'  religion  was  a  matter  with  which 
she  only  concerned  herself  if  they  neglected  their  religious 
duties.  Mrs.  Cotton,  remembering  these  things,  and  being 
ever  filled  to  brimming  with  what  Christian  had  called  The 
Spirit  of  the  Nation,  opened  with  a  general  attack  upon  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  narrowed  to  a  tale  of  "  a  friend  of  mine 
and  Mr.  Cotton's.  A  clergyman.  A  man  of  private  means." 
After  this  stimulating  prelude,  the  tale  ceased  for  a  moment, 
while  Mrs.  Cotton  blinked  her  small  black  eyes  at  her  hostess, 
several  times,  as  was  her  practice.  "  Oh.  a  very  wealthy 
man  !  "  she  continued,  imposingly,  *'  and  he  bought  a  lovely 
house,  with  a  garden  ;  a  lovely  garden  ! "  The  thought  of 
a  garden  was  a  fortunate  one,  and  enlisted  Lady  Isabel's 
wandering  attention.  "  But  at  the  end  of  the  garden  what  was 
there  but  a  Nunnery  !  And  the  clergyman  found  that  his 
daughters  were  always  slipping  out  into  the  garden,  and  what 
was  it  but  the  nuns,  that  were  getting  hold  of  the  girls  ! 
Very  refined  w^omen  they  were,  and  well  able  to  deceive  young 
girls  ! "  The  tale  was  flowing  swiftly  now,  but  Mrs.  Cotton 
paused  dramatically,  and  continued  on  a  lower  key.  "  The 
clergyman  had  had  bookshelves  made  to  fit  the  study,  and  a 

splendid  antique  sideboard  to  fitanitch "      Mrs.  Cotton 

spoke  fast,  and  the  last  three  words  ran  bewilderingly  into 
one.  "  But  he  sold  the  house  at  once  !  Yes,  indeed,  Lady 
Isabel  !  Weren't  his  daughters'  souls  more  to  him  than 
bookshelves  }  " 

Lady  Isabel,  who  was  still  wrestling  with  the  apparently 
Russian  problem  in  connection  with  the  antique  sideboard,  ^ 
attempted  no  reply  to  this  inquiry,  and  Mrs.  Cotton,  con- 


MOUNT    MUSIC  149 

sidering  that  her  hostess*  mind  was  now  sufficiently  prepared, 
did  not  wait  for  her  opinion,  and  swept  on  to  her  objective, 
which  was  the  denunciation  of  the  conduct  of  the  recent 
concert,  and  more  especially  of  the  disposition  of  the  proceeds. 
*'  Of  course,  /  don't  know  in  whose  hands  it  lay.  Lady  Isabel," 
she  said,  raising  her  tea  cup  to  her  lips,  and  in  order  to  do  so 
curtaining  it  behind  her  ample  veil,  "  but  the  Roman  Catholics 
seemed  to  consider  that  it  was  all  to  go  to  them,  and  the  paltry 
sum  I  have  mentioned  was  all  they  gave  Mr.  Cotton  and  me 
for  our  charities  !  "  Her  black  eyes  snapped  menacingly  at 
Lady  Isabel  over  the  rim  of  the  veiled  tea  cup. 

Lady  Isabel  uttered  a  soothing  and  indefinite  murmur, 
and  the  indictment  proceeded. 

"  Considering  that  your  family,  Lady  Isabel,  took  a  leading 
part  in  the  programme,  and  that  I  may  say  the  greater  number 
of  the  half-crown  seats  were  Protestants,  I  do  think  that  our 
Church " 

It  avails  not  to  follow  Mrs.  Cotton's  diatribes  further. 
Lady  Isabel  had  lived  for  some  five  and  twenty  years  in 
Ireland,  but  they  had  not  sufficed  to  expound  to  her  the  in- 
tricacies of  the  web  of  jealousies,  hatreds,  fears,  and  stupidities, 
that  has  been  spun  by  that  intolerant  Spirit  of  the  Nation, 
in  order  to  separate,  as  far  as  may  be,  the  two  Churches 
who  divide  the  kindly  people  of  the  Island  of  Saints  between 
them.  Lady  Isabel  might  see  that  in  the  distribution  of  the 
spoils  Mrs.  Cotton  had  possibly  a  lawful  grievance,  but  she 
could  not,  even  after  five  and  twenty  years,  quite  under- 
stand how  solacing  to  the  soul  of  Mrs.  Cotton  was  the 
consideration  of  the  wrongs  endured  by  her  Church. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Lady  Isabel  !  Not  one  penny  more  !  And 
then  Dr.  Mangan  to  say  to  Mr.  Cotton  when  I  sent  him  to 
complain  about  it,  that  it  was  better  than  a  poke  in  the  eye 
with  a  blunt  stick  !  That  was  by  the  way  of  making  a  joke 
of  it !  And  that  the  Hunt  wanted  it  more  than  we  did  !  I 
wonder  how  much  Father  Greer  left  the  Hunt!  " 

Again  Mrs.  Cotton's  beady  eyes  snapped  several  times, 
in  an  emotion  that  was  not  far  from  enjoyment.  The 
iniquities  of  Father  Greer  were  very  dear  to  her,  and  she  was 
confident  that  in  this  matter  of  dividing  the  spoil  he  had  not 
disappointed  her. 

Passing  on  from  the  concert,  Mrs.  Cotton  dealt  with  many 


I50  MOUNT   MUSIC 

subjects  in  a  harangue  that  turned  the  seamy  side  of  Cluhir 
to  the  sun,  with  the  skill  of  a  buyer  of  old  clothes.  Lady 
Isabel,  behind  the  prisoning  tea-table,  after  a  hopeless, 
helpless  glance  round  an  assembly  that  was  either  preoccupied, 
or  wilfully  blind,  relapsed  into  the  brain  stupor  that  was  some- 
times sent,  like  an  anodyne,  to  those  whom  fate  had  con- 
signed to  Mrs.  Cotton's  keeping.  The  Reverend  Matthew, 
in  whom  a  prolonged  course  of  his  wife  had  developed  a 
condition,  when  in  her  society,  of  semi-hypnotic  trance,  sat 
in  silence  at  his  hostess'  side,  devouring  cake,  and  swallowing 
cups  of  tea,  until  what  had  apparently  been  starvation  was 
averted  ;  he  then  dreamily  withdrew,  and  joined  himself, 
vaguely,  to  the  group  of  which  Miss  Coppinger  formed  one. 
Frederica's  early  training  had,  as  has  been  said,  implanted  in 
her  an  ineradicable  interest  in  the  Church.  Even  the  dulled, 
almost  obliterated  personality  of  Mr.  Cotton  still  held  for 
her  some  of  the  magic  of  his  cloth.  She  moved  her  chair  to 
admit  him  to  the  fellowship  of  which  she  was  one,  and  offered 
him  the  seat  that  had  been  hastily  vacated  by  Mrs.  Kirby  on 
his  approach,  with  a  darkling  eye  of  reproof  at  that  experienced 
lady. 

Conversation  with  Mr.  Cotton  resembled  conversation 
with  his  wife,  in  that  it  was  apt  to  be  one-sided,  life  having 
taught  him  to  take  the  side  not  patronised  by  Mrs.  Cotton. 
When,  however,  severed  from  her,  he  was  capable  of  imparting 
rudimentary  fragments  of  fact,  and  one  of  these  he  now  offered 
to  Miss  Coppinger. 

"  I  hear  your  nephew  is  the  candidate  chosen  by  the 
Nationahsts  here  for  the  next  election,  Miss  Coppinger," 
he  said,  his  pale  eyes  regarding  her  drearily  over  the  top  of 
his  spectacles. 

Frederica  sat  erect  in  her  chair  with  a  jerk,  and  a  hot  red 
sprang,  like  a  danger-signal,  to  her  face. 

**  I've  heard  nothing  of  it,"  she  said  stoutly,  but  with  a 
leaping  heart  of  horror.     "  How  do  you  know  it  is  the  case  ?  " 

"  It  is  commonly  reported  in  the  town,"  rephed  Mr. 
Cotton.     *'  One  hears  these  things " 

*'  I  can't  believe  it — I  can't  believe  it,"  said  Frederica  ; 
the  colour  had  left  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  hurried  from  Mr. 
Cotton's  face  to  Mrs.  St.  George's,  and  roved  on  to  Mrs. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  151 

Kirby,  who  was  seated  near,  and  had  evidently  felt  the  wind 
of  the  shot. 

"  Why,  the  boy  is  only  just  twenty-one  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Kirby,  rolling  herself  and  her  chair  back  into  action  to  the 
support  of  her  friend.  '*  With  all  deference  to  you,  Mr. 
Cotton,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it  !  Of  course,  Larry 
would  have  told  you,  Frederica  !  I  can  well  believe  that 
those  Gaelic  League  people  would  like  to  have  him  if  they  can 
get  him  !  Depend  upon  it,  the  wish  is  father  to  the 
thought !  " 

Frederica  made  no  reply  ;  her  lips  were  tightly  compressed, 
and  her  unseeing  eyes,  though  they  appeared  to  be  fixed  on 
Mrs.  Kirby's  broad  and  friendly  face,  were  looking  along  the 
paths  of  memory  to  the  time  when  that  barrier  of  ice  had  not 
arisen  between  her  and  Larry. 

*'  I  understand  that  the  suggestion  emanated  from  Dr. 
Mangan,'*  went  on  Mr.  Cotton,  faintly  stimulated  by  his 
unaccustomed  success.  **  I  am  not  aware  if  young  Mr. 
Coppinger  has  made  any  reply." 

Mrs,  Kirby  put  her  plump  white  hand  on  Frederica*s 
narrow  knee.  **  I  shouldn't  distress  myself  if  I  were  you, 
my  dear,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Quite  possibly  it's  aH 
a  mistake "  She  turned  to  Mr.  Cotton,  who  was  relaps- 
ing into  trance  ;  his  eyes  had  followed  the  movement  of  her 
hand,  and  were  being  held,  hypnotically,  by  the  sparkle  of 
the  diamonds  in  her  rings.  "  At  all  events,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Kirby,  **a  general  election  now  is  very  unlikely,  and  our  valued 
member — upon  my  word,  I  don't  even  remember  his  name  ! — 
isn't  likely  to  resign  in  Larry's  favour,  so  we  needn't  discuss 
it  now  !  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Cotton,  that  you  will  agree  with 
me,  that  the  less  said  about  it  the  better  ;  most  probably 
the  whole  thing  will  die  out  and  come  to  nothing  !  "  She 
glanced  at  Mrs.  St.  George,  and  perceiving  that  the  news 
had  shattered  her  in  only  less  degree  than  Frederica,  she 
continued  to  address  Mr.  Cotton.  "  Such  weather  !  Isn't 
it  ?     How  does  your  garden  like  all  this  rain,  Mr.  Cotton  ? 

Our  strawberries  won*t  ripen,  and  as  for  the  poor  hay ! 

You  really  ought  to  have  prayers  for  fine  weather  for  us  next 
Sunday!  " 

Mr.  Cotton  recalled  his  eyes  from  the  diamonds  with  an 
effort.    "  I  will,  if  you  like,  Mrs.  Kirby  !  "  he  said,  looking  at 


152  MOUNT   MUSIC 

her,  like  an  old  horse,  down  his  long,  deplorable  nose,  **  but 
I  fear  they  will  be  not  of  much  use,  as  the  glawss  is  remorkably 
low !" 

Prayers  for  the  modification  of  the  weather  are  often  treated 
as  a  permissible  subject  for  mirth,  and  Mrs.  Kirby  availed 
herself  of  the  convention  ;  even  Frederica  and  Mrs.  St. 
George,  stricken  though  they  were,  smiled  wanly. 


CHAPTER   XXI 


At  about  this  time,  that  imposing  spectacle,  once  described 
by  Mrs.  Twomey  as  "  The  Big  Doctor  and  Httle  Danny 
Aherne  walking  the  streets  of  Cluhir  like  two  paycocks," 
was  vouchsafed  to  the  town  rather  more  frequently  than  was 
usually  the  case.  Dr.  Aherne  had  sent  a  patient,  who  was 
no  less  a  person  than  the  priest  of  the  parish  of  Pribawn, 
to  the  private  ward  of  the  Infirmary  in  Cluhir,  where  he  would  [ 
among  other  advantages,  receive  daily  visits  from  Dr.  Mangan. 
Father  Sweeny  was  suffering  from  a  broken  leg,  and  other 
damages  ;  a  midnight  drive  to  a  dying  parishioner  had 
ended,  disastrously,  in  an  unguarded  road-side  ditch,  and  Dr. 
Aherne  had  thought  it  best  to  consign  a  patient  of  such 
importance  to  the  care  of  hands  less  occupied,  as  well  as  of 
higher  renown,  than  his  own. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Big  Doctor  and  his  kinsman  saw 
more  of  each  other  than  is  often  possible  for  men  whose  work 
is  as  widespread  and  incessant  as  is  that  of  Irish  Dispensary 
Doctors.  On  this  windy  June  morning  they  had  met  in 
the  dreary  yard  of  the  Workhouse,  to  which  the  Infirmary  was 
attached,  and  together  they  paced  the  long,  whitewashed, 
slate-paven  passages  that  led  to  the  Infirmary,  pausing  at 
intervals  to  talk  of  matters  quite  unconnected  with  their 
patients,  but,  if  the  frequency  of  the  pauses,  filled  by  the 
sibilant  whispers  of  the  httle  doctor,  and  the  deep  growls 
of^the  big  one,  was  any  criterion,  none  the  less  absorbing. 

"  His  name's  been  accepted,"  ended  the  Big  Doctor,  after 
the  lengthiest  of  these,  *'  and  it  would  be  no  harm  for  you  to 
be  slipping  in  a  word,  now  and  again,  with  the  people  through 
the  country,  according  as  you'd  get  the  chance,  Danny." 

**  I  will,  I  will,"  replied  the  little  doctor,  as  he  opened  the 
door  of  Father  Sweeny's  room. 

**  You're  doing  very  well,  Father,"  said  Dr.  Mangan,  his 


153 


154  MOUNT    MUSIC 

inspection  of  the  patient  ended.  "  I  consider  you  could'nt 
be  progressing  more  satisfactorily."  He  seated  himself  by 
Father  Tim  Sweeny's  bedside,  while  the  Nursing  Sister-in- 
Charge  rolled  up  bandages,  and  conferred  in  lowered  tones 
with  Dr.  Aherne,  on  the  subject  of  what  he  called  the 
patient's  "  dite."  , 

*'  You'll  be  going  as  strong  as  ever  you  did  in  a  few  weeks 
time,"  continued  Dr.  Mangan,  encouragingly. 

Father  Sweeny  returned  the  Doctor's  look  morosely. 
"  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  being  here  as  it  is,"  he  said,  gloomily, 
**  and  you  talk  to  me  of  weeks  !  " 

"  Ah,  they'll  pass,  never  fear  they'll  pass  !  "  said  the  Big 
Doctor,'  cheerfully.  *'  I  never  saw  the  weeks  yet  that  didn't 
pass  if  you  waited  long  enough  !  And  I  wouldn't  say  but 
that  you  mightn't  go  home  before  you're  out  of  our  hands 
entirely." 

Father  Sweeny  received  these  consolations  with  an  unpro- 
pitiated  grunt.  His  large  face,  with  its  broad  cheeks  and 
heavy  double-chins,  that  was  usually  of  a  sanguine  and  all 
pervasive  beefy-red,  now  hung  in  pallid  purple  folds,  on 
which  dark  bristles,  that  were  as  stiff  as  those  on  the  barrel 
of  a  musical  box,  told  that  the  luxury  of  shaving  had  hitherto 
been  withheld.  There  are  some  professions  that  tend  naore 
than  others  to  grade  the  men  that  follow  them  into  distinct 
types.  The  Sea  is  one  of  these,  the  Church,  and  pre-eminently 
the  Church  of  Rome,  is  another.  The  ecclesiastical  types 
vary  no  less  than  the  nautical  ones,  and  neither  need  here  be 
enumerated.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Father  Sweeny, 
when  in  his  usual  robust  health,  in  voice,  in  appearance, 
and  in  manner,  provoked,  uncontrollably,  a  comparison 
with  a  heavy  and  truculent  black  bull. 

"  'Tis  highly  inconvenient  to  me  to  be  boxed  up  in  bed 
this  way,  at  this  time,"  said  Father  Sweeny,  with  a  small  hot 
eye  upon  his  attendant  nun  that  would  have  said  instantly 
to  any  one  less  entirely  kind,  religious,  and  painstaking, 
that  he  had  no  immediate  need  of  her  services  ;  *'  Sister 
Maria  Joseph,  I  wonder  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  bring  me 
the  paper  ?     I  didn't  see  it  to-day  at  all." 

Sister  Maria  Joseph  turned  her  amiable,  unruffled  face, 
with  that  pure  complexion  that  would  seem  to  be  one  of  the 


MOUNT   MUSIC  155 

compensations  for  the  renunciation  of  the  world,  towards 
her  patient,  and  said,  obsequiously  : 

*'  I  beg  your  pordon,  Fawther  ?" 

The  little  eyes  had  a  hotter  sparkle  as  Father  Sweeny 
repeated  his  request. 

"  It's  a  wonder  to  me,"  he  growled  to  Dr.  Mangan,  after 
Sister  Maria  Joseph  had  left  the  room,  having  taken,  in  her 
anxiety  to  show  respect,  quite  half  a  minute  in  closing  the 
door  with  suitable  noiselessness,  **  why  people  can't  attend 
to  what's  said  to  them  !     If  there's  a  thing  I  hate,  it's  being 

bothered   repeating   an   entirely   trivial   matter,   which " 

— here  Father  Tim's  voice  began  to  take  on  the  angry,  high 
tenor  of  one  of  his  prototypes — **  she  had  a  right  to  have 
heard  at  the  first  offer  !  I  declare  I'm  beside  meself  some- 
times with  the  annoyance  I  get  !  " 

Dr.  Mangan  laid  his  spatulate  fingers  upon  the  sufferer's 
hairy  wrist. 

"  We'll  have  to  give  his  Reverence  a  sedative,  Danny," 
he  said,  winking  at  his  colleague.  '*  I'd  be  sorry  to  see  you 
that  way.  Father  ;  the  bed's  narrow  enough  for  you  as  it  is, 
without  having  you  beside  yourself  in  it  !  " 

Father  Sweeny's  mood  was  one  to  which  chaff  did  not 
commend  itself.  He  snatched  his  hand  from  beneath  the 
Doctor's  fingers,  and  picked  up  some  letters  that  lay  beside  him. 

"  Look  at  this,  I  ask  you  !  From  Mary  Murphy,  saying 
her  husband  is  quite  well,  and  that  he  took  the  turn  for 
good  from  the  minute  he  was  anointed  !  And  me  lying 
here  crippled  !  " 

"  *  The  dog  it  was  that  died  !  *  "  quoted  Dr.  Mangan, 
smoothly. 

*'  What  dog  ?  "  demanded  Father  Sweeny,  with  indignation, 
**  I  d'no  what  you're  talking  about !" 

"  Ah,  nothing,  nothing,"  said  the  Big  Doctor,  with  a  lift 
of  the  spirit  at  the  thought  of  his  superior  culture,  **  but 
surely  it  wasn't  to  show  me  Mary  Murphy's  letter  that  you 
sent  poor  Sister  Maria  Joseph  on  a  fool's  errand  ?  " 

*'  Why  a  fool's  errand  }  "  demanded  the  now  incensed 
Father  Sweeny.     *'  What  d'ye  mean  ?  " 

"  Look  at  the  newspaper  on  the  floor  here,"  returned  the 
Doctor.  "  You'll  have  her  back  in  a  minute,  begging  your 
pardon  again,  to  tell  you  so." 


156  MOUNT    MUSIC 

Father  Sweeny  glared,  speechless,  at  his  tormentor  for  an 
instant  ;  then,  finding  the  Big  Doctor  unmoved  *'  in  the 
furnace  of  his  look,"  he  fell  back  on  his  pillows. 

'*  Lock  the  door  !  "  he  commanded  angrily.  He  pushed  a 
letter  into  the  Doctor's  hand.     *'  Read  that  !  " 

*'  Hullo  !  The  Major  !  What's  he  got  to  say  to  you, 
Father  Tim?" 

**  Read  it,  I  tell  you  !  " 

Dr.  Mangan  did  so,  with  attention,  and  read  it  a  second 
time  before  he  replaced  it  in  its  envelope  and  handed  it  back 
to  the  priest. 

*'  That's  a  nice  letter  !  "  said  Father  Sweeny,  with  a  snort 
that  he  believed  to  be  a  laugh.  "  What  d'ye  think  of  that 
now,  you  that  are  so  fond  of  Protestants  !  " 

"  I  think  the  man  is  justified,"  said  the  Doctor,  stoutly. 
*'  There's  no  such  great  hurry,  and  anyhow,  his  authority  is 
at  an  end.  He  couldn't  give  you  as  much  as'd  sod  a  lark 
now " 

"  Nor  he  wouldn't  if  he  could  !  "  broke  in  Father  Sweeny. 
*'  And  there  is  hurry,  and  great  hurry  !  How  will  I  build 
my  chapel  without  the  land  to  put  it  on  ?  Will  you  tell  me 
that  ?  " 

*'  Ah,  you  haven't  the  money  gathered  yet.  The  delay 
isn't  worth  exciting  yourself  about  !  "  said  the  Doctor, 
soothingly.  Father  Tim  amused  him,  and  he  liked  him, 
being  well  aware  that  if  his  temper  was  hot,  his  heart  was 
correspondingly  warm.  *'  You'll  see  the  young  chap  will 
give  you  the  site  as  soon  as  look  at  you." 

**  And  how  do  I  know  the  young  chap  will  be  any  easier 
than  the  old  one  }  Isn't  he  there  at  Mount  Music  all  day 
and  every  day,  at  their  tea-parties  and  their  dinner-parties  "i 
Won't  they  have  him  married  up  to  one  of  the  daughters 
before  you  can  look  around  ?  He  may  call  himself  a  Catholic, 
but  them  EngUsh  Catholics — come  in  !" 

Sister  Maria  Joseph's  faint  tap  at  the  door  had  as  instant 
an  effect  as  a  squib,  planted  in  the  mane  of  the  monarch  of 
the  bull-ring,  might  produce. 

'T  cannt — the  door's  locked,  Fawther  !  "  came  Sister  Maria 
Joseph's  gentle  voice,  in  mild  protest.  *'  I  couldn't  find 
the " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  157 

"  Never  mind  it  !  I  have  it  myself—/  have  it,  I  tell  you  !  " 
shouted  Father  Tim  ;  in  his  voice  the  appeal  to  a  merciful 
Heaven  to  grant  patience  was  unmistakeable. 

Sister  Maria  Joseph,  recognising  with  trembling  her 
superfluousness,  withdrew. 

"  It's  Barty  will  have  that  job  we  were  speaking  of  just 
now,  before  you  were  coaxing  Sister  Maria  Joseph  to  go  away 
from  you,"  resumed  Dr.  Mangan.  *'  Maybe  you  didn't 
hear  he's  got  the  Coppinger's  Court  Agency  }  Young 
Coppinger  offered  it  to  him  yesterday." 

*'  It's  a  good  thing  it's  out  of  Talbot-Lowry's  hands  any- 
how," growled  Father  Sweeny. 

"  Larry's  up  at  my  house  every  day  now,  about  a  concert 
they're  to  have,"  went  on  the  Doctor,  tranquilly.  "  Tishy's 
helping  him.  He's  very  fond  of  music.  I  think  you're 
mistaken  in  thinking  he'll  be  married  to  one  of  the  Major's 
daughters  in  such  a  hurry  !  " 

"  The  first  thing  he'll  want  to  do  is  to  tidy  up  his  property 
and  pacify  the  tenants,"  said  Dr.  Aherne,  in  his  small,  piping 
voice.  "  They're  not  too  pleased  with  the  way  they  are  now. 
The  Major  was  rather  short  with  some  of  them,  now  and 
again.  There  was  Herlihy,  and  two  of  the  Briens,  was  talking 
to  me  and  saying  what  would  they  do  at  all  with  Father  Tim 
here,  away.     They  were  thinking  would  Father  Hoean " 

-  Br-r-r-r-r-h  !  " 

As  a  bull  shakes  his  head,  with  a  reverberating  roar  at 
the  foes  he  cannot  reach,  so  did  Father  Tim  Sweeny,  crippled 
and  furious,  roll  his  big  head,  growHng,  on  his  pillows.  His 
dark  hair  lay  in  tight  rings  on  his  broad  and  bulging  forehead, 
and  curled  in  strength  over  his  head  back  to  the  tonsure. 
His  eyes  were  congested  with  the  unavailing  rage  that 
possessed  him,  as  he  thought  of  his  parish  left  leaderless. 

Had  the  "  Ballad  of  the  Bull  "  then  been  written,  and  had 
Dr.  Mangan  been  acquainted  with  it  (which  seems  unlikely) 
he  might  have  again  proved  his  culture  by  remembering 
the  injunction  to  pity  "  this  fallen  chief,"  as  he  saw  the 
impotent  wrath  in  Father  Tim's  bovine  countenance. 
^^  *•  Don't  worry  yourself  now.  Father,"  he  said,  consolingly, 
ril  undertake  to  say  it  will  be  all  right  about  the  site  for 
the  chapel,  and  what's  more,  I'll  undertake  to  say  there'll 
be  nothing  done  about  it,  or  the  tenants,  or  anything  else. 


158  MOUNT   MUSIC 

till  you're  well.    The  people  will  do  nothing  without  you  !  ** 

He  looked  at  his  huge,  old-fashioned  gold  watch. 

"  Oh,  b'  Jove,  I  must  be  off  !  Tell  me,  did  you  hear  they 
have  Larry  Coppinger  chosen  to  be  the  candidate,  when 
Prendergast  retires,  as  he  says  he  will,  before  the  next  election  ? 
There  won't  be  much  talk  of  tea-parties  for  Larry  at  Mount 
Music  then  !  Any  tea-party  there  that  he'd  go  to  once  he 
was  a  Nationalist  M.P.,  I  think  he'd  be  apt  to  get  '  his  tay 
in  a  mug  ! '  " 

The  Doctor  got  up  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"I'll  support  him,  so  !  "  Father  Sweeny  called  after  him. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

There  are  families,  as  there  are  nations,  that  are  Hke  those 
ships  that,  launched  under  a  luckv  star,  sail  their  appointed 
courses  ever  serenely  and  eventlessly,  and  though  they  may 
mdeed  look  on  tempests,  yet  are  never  shaken  by  them. 
But  of  such  was  not,  it  must  regretfully  be  said,  the  family 
of  Talbot-Lowry.  It  can  only  be  supposed  that  the  gods 
had  preordamed  its  destruction,  for  on  no  other  assumption 
can  the  dementia  of  its  chief  representative  be  comprehended 

It  would  be  out  of  place,  even,  if  not  impertinent,  absurd' 
to  discuss  here  the  Act  of  Parliament  that  in  the  year  nineteen 
hundred  and  three,  made  provision  to  change  the  ownership 
of  Irish  land,  and  to  transfer  its  possession  from  the  landlords 
to  the  tenants.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  those  of  both  classes 
who  were  endowed  with  the  valuable  quality  of  knowing  on 
which  side  of  a  piece  of  bread  the  butter  had  been  applied 
lost  as  little  time  as  was  possible  in  availing  themselves  of 
^e  facihties  that  the  Act  offered  them.  The  ceremony  of 
Han  Kin,  even  if  entered  upon  with  the  belief  that  it  will 
lead  to  another  and  a  better  world,  is  not  an  agreeable  one 
but  It  was  obvious  to  most  Irish  landlords  that,  with  bad  or 
good  grace,  sooner  or  later,  that  grim  rite  had  to  be  faced 
and  that  the  hindmost  in  the  transaction  need  expect  only 
the  fete  proverbially  promised  to  such.  It  is,  possibly 
superfluous  to  say  that  of  the  companv  of  the  hindmost  was 
our  poor  fnend,  well-meaning  and  stupid  Dick  Talbot- 
Lowry,  and  also  that  his  fate,  as  such,  was  sedulously  pointed 
out  to  him  by  those  friends  of  his  own  class,  who,  like  the 
tabled  fox,  having  lost  their  brushes,  were  eager  in  explanation 
ot^the  superiority  of  their  position, 

"  I  J^on't  own  a  stick  outside  my  own  dem.esne  wall  '  " 
says  Colonel  St.  George.  *'  Of  all  the  hundreds  of  acres  of 
mountain  that  my  father  had,  there  isn't  as  much  as  one  patch 
ot  bog  left  that  I  could  cut  a  sod  of  turf  in  !  " 

159 


i6o  MOUNT    MUSIC 

This  whisk  of  a  vanished  brush  was  a  gesture  well  calculated 
to  enrage  Major  Dick.  It  was  senseless  of  St.  George  to 
boast  of  his  Hmitations,  and  yet  no  one  better  than  Dick  knew 
what  must  be  the  feeling  of  emancipation  that  prompted  the 
boast. 

Autocracy  dies  hard,  and  it  is  probable  that  long  after 
Leagues  of  Nations  have  decreed  the  abolition  of  all  Rulers, 
the  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table  will  still,  in  the  most 
inveterate  Republics,  issue,  unquestioned,  his  unalterable 
edicts,  with  his  coat-tails  monopoHsing  the  dining-room  fire, 
and  the  family  income  concentrated  in  his  cheque  book. 
Dick  Talbot-Lowry's  pigheadedness  was  at  the  root  of  the 
downsliding  of  Mount  Music.  Having  faced,  undaunted, 
deputations  of  his  tenants  ;  deputations  of  pubHc  bodies  ; 
("  damned  interfering  blackguards,  who  ought  to  be^  taught 
to  mind  their  own  business  !  "),  having  made  light  of  advice 
from  his  friends,  and  of  anonymous  threatening  letters  from, 
presumably,  his  enemies,  he  still  held  fast,  and  refused  to  sell 
the  property  that  had  come  to  him  from  the  men  whose 
portraits  had  looked  down  on  him  from  the  old  walls  of 
Mount  Music,  all  the  days  of  his  life.  It  was,  perhaps, 
the  solitary  strand  of  romance  in  his  nature,  the  feudal  feeling 
that  the  Mount  Music  tenants  were  his,  as  they  had  been  his 
ancestors',  to  have  and  to  hold,  to  rule,  to  arbitrate  for,  and 
to  stand  by,  as  a  fond  and  despotic  husband  rules  and  stands 
by  an  obedient  wife,  loving  her  and  bullying  her  (but  both 
entirely  for  her  good).  He  had,  moreover,  the  desire  to 
disparage  and  to  disprove  new  ideas,  that  is  a  sign  of  a  mind 
incapable  of  originality,  and  anxious  to  assert  itself 
negatively,  since  it  must  otherwise  remain  silent. 

"  But  Dick,"  his  friends  would  say,  '*  there  isn't  a  property 
this  side  of  the  county  that  isn't  sold,  except  your  own  !  " 

"  What's  that  to  me  ?  "  says  Dick,  as  stubborn  and  stupid 
a  King  Canute  as  ever  sat  with  the  tide  nearing  the  tops  of 
his  hunting-boots  ;  "I  don't  care  a  damn  what  anybody 
else  does  !  And  what's  more  "  he  would  add,  gloomily,"  / 
can't  afford  to  sell  at  seventeen  years'  purchase.  Anyhow, 
what's  mine's  my  own  !      I'll  be  shot  if  I'll  be  bullied  !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  you  were  !  "  the  friends 
would  reply  darkly. 

To  sell  at  seventeen  years'  purchase,  was  what    Mr.  St. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  i6i 

Lawrence  Coppinger  had  done,  following  the  advice  of  his 
agent  and  solicitor,  Mr.  Bartholomew  Mangan,  and  his  cousin, 
and  late  guardian,  Major  Talbot-Lowry,  had  found  it  hard  to 
forgive  him.  The  business  had  been  arranged  while  Larry 
was  in  Paris,  and  the  expostulations  that  might  have  prevailed 
if  delivered  viva  voce,  failed  of  their  effect  when  presented  on 
foreign  paper,  in  Cousin  Dick's  illegible  scrawl.  It  was  all 
very  fine  for  Larry,  ran  the  illegible  scrawl,  to  talk  of  selling 
at  such  a  price,  but  he  ought  to  see  what  a  hole  his 
doing  so  put  his  neighbours  in  !  Larry  hadn't  a  squad  of 
incumbrances,  and  charges,  and  mortgages,  hung  round  his 
neck  like  leeches  (and  no  fault  of  the  Major's).  He  had  had 
to  find  money  in  a  hurry  to  pay  oft"  one  of  these  cursed  things 
only  the  other  day,  and  if  he  hadn't  had  the  luck  to  mention 
it  to  a  friend,  who  was  kind  enough  to  come  to  the  rescue 
(of  course  on  good  security)  the  Major  would  have  been  in 
a  hat,  or  a  hole,  Larry  couldn't  quite  read  which. 

These  grievances,  and  much  more,  illegibly  scrawled  on 
foreign  paper,  with  a  quill  pen.  Larry,  swallowed  up  in 
the  absorbing,  isolating  life  of  a  Paris  studio,  would  put  the 
letters,  half-read,  in  his  pocket,  and  would  immediately 
forget  all  about  them.  After  all,  he  couldn't  interfere  with 
Barty  ;  he  was  the  man  at  the  helm,  and  mustn't  be  talked 
to.  Also,  it  was  idiotic  to  keep  a  dog  and  bark  yourself. 
Proverbial  philosophy  is  a  recognised  sedative  ;  Larry  gave 
himself  a  dose  or  two,  and  straightway  forgot  Cousin 
Dick,  forgot  Ireland,  forgot  even  that  gratifying  nomination 
of  himself  as  Nationahst  candidate  for  the  Division,  and 
plunged  back  into  the  burning  atmosphere  of  art,  wherein 
models  and  professors,  cliques  and  cabals,  glow,  and  seethe, 
and  exist  intensely,  and  with  as  little  reference  to  the  affairs 
of  the  outside  world,  as  if  they  were  the  sole  occupants  of  a 
distant  and  much  over-heated  star. 

There  are  many  people  who  have  been  endowed  with  one 
m.aster-passion,  that  "  like  Aaron's  serpent  swallows  up  the 
rest,"  but  Larry's  ingenuous  breast  harboured  a  nest  of 
such  serpents.  During  his  three  years  at  Oxford,  he  had 
stormed  from  one  enthusiasm  to  another  ;  he  had  rowed, 
and  boxed,  and  spouted  politics,  and,  beginning  with  music, 
had  stormed  on  through  poetry  and  the  drama,  to  painting. 

Having  taken  a  moderate  degree,  he  had  rushed  in  pursuit 


1 62  MOUNT   MUSIC 

of  this  latest  charmer  to  Paris,  and  the  waters  of  the  Quartier 
Latin  then  closed  over  him.  Occasionally  a  bubble  would 
rise  from  those  clouded  deeps,  and  a  letter  to  Aunt  Freddy, 
or  to  Barty  Mangan,  would  briefly  announce  his  continued 
existence.  Sometimes  he  wrote  to  Christian,  and  would 
expand  a  little  more  to  her  ;  telling  her  of  how  one 
Professor  had  remarked  of  his  work  that  it  was  now  presgue 
pas  mal,  and  that  this  dizzying  encomium  had  encouraged  him 
to  begin  a  Salon  (its  subject  described  at  length,  with  elucidat- 
ory sketches)  ;  further,  that  he  had  taken  a  very  jolly  atelier ^ 
and  **  dear  old  Chose  "  was  "  on  the  Jury,"  and  would  try 
and  get  him  accepted,  with  much  more  to  the  same  effect, 
music,  politics,  horses  and  hounds,  forgotten  as  though 
they  had  never  been. 

Christian  received  these  efi*usions  with  a  characteristic 
mixture  of  respect  for  the  artistic  effort  that  they  described, 
and  of  amused,  almost  pitying  comprehension  of  the  enthus- 
iasm that  they  revealed.  It  was  three  years  since  Larry 
had  left  Oxford  and  gone  to  France,  and  during  those  years 
Christian  had  learned  more  of  life  than  Larry  had  acquired, 
or  would  ever  acquire,  in  spite  of  the  three  years'  start  of  her 
with  which  he  had  begun  the  world. 

Judith  had  been  induced  to  close  her  brilliant  career  as  a 
buccaneer,  by  a  perfectly,  even — from  the  buccaneering 
point  of  view — depressingly  satisfactory  marriage  with  Mr. 
William  Kirby,  and  her  departure  had  forced  her  younger 
sister  into  the  front  rank  of  domestic  combatants.  At  Mount 
Music,  where  once  the  milk  and  honey  had  flowed  with 
effortless  abundance,  each  year  brought  increasing  stress. 
The  rents  grew  less,  the  expenses  greater,  that  large  and 
omnivorous  item,  known  as  "  keeping  up  the  place,"  was  as 
exacting  as  ever,  the  minor  problems  of  household  existence 
more  acute.  There  had  been  a  time  when  the  Mount  Music 
tenants  had  vied  with  one  another  in  the  provision  of  sons 
and  daughters  for  service  in  the  Big  House,  when  bonfires 
had  blazed  for  the  return  of  '*  the  young  gentlemen,"  and 
offerings  of  eggs  had  greeted  "  the  young  ladies."  Now  the  pro- 
pitiatory turkey  that  heralded  a  request,  the  goose  that 
signalised  a  success,  gained  with  the  help  of  the  hereditary 
helpers,  had  all  ceased.  Alien  influences  had  poisoned  the 
wells  of  friendship.     Such  rents  as  were  paid  were  extracted 


MOUNT    MUSIC  163 

by  the  hard  hand  of  the  law,  and  the  tenants  held  indignation 
meetings  against  the  landlord  who  refused  to  resign  to  them 
what  they  beheved  to  be  theirs,  and  he  was  equally  convinced 
was  his.  Major  Dick  still  shot  and  fished,  as  was  his  right, 
over  the  lands  and  waters  that  were  still  in  his  name,  but 
the  tenants,  whose  fathers  had  loved  him,  had  renounced  the 
old  allegiance.  The  partridges  were  run  down  by  the  grey- 
hounds that  had  killed  off  the  hares  ;  the  salmon  were 
poached  ;  worst  of  all,  Derrylugga  Gorse,  the  covert  that 
Dick  had  planted  twenty-five  years  ago,  on  Carmody's  farm, 
in  the  middle  of  the  best  of  the  Broadwater  Vale  country, 
was  burned  down,  and  a  vixen  and  her  cubs  had  perished 
with  it. 

Dick  gave  up  the  hounds  at  the  end  of  the  season. 

*'  I've  done  my  best  to  show  sport  for  five  and  twenty 
years,"  he  said,  "  and  I'm  not  going  to  spoil  it  now  !  " 

It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  for  Dick's  wife  this  sacrifice 
had  its  consolatory  aspects.  It  was  a  long  time  now  since 
there  had  been  quite  enough  money  for  anything  at  Mount 
Music.  Those  far-sighted  guardian  angels  who  had  com- 
pelled the  investment  of  Lady  Isabel's  dowry  in  gilt-edged 
securities,  had  placed  the  care  of  these  in  the  hands  of  hide- 
bound English  trustees  (the  definition  is  Major  Dick's)  and 
the  amiable  reader  need  therefore  have  no  anxieties  that 
starvation  threatened  this  well-meaning  family,  but,  as  Lady 
Isabel  frequently  said,  *'  what  with  the  Boys,  and  Judith's 
trousseau,  and  the  Wedding,  and  One-Thing-and-Another" 
(which  last  is  always  a  big  item  in  the  domestic  budget)  the 
more  common  needs  of  every  day  had  to  submit  to  very  drastic 
condensation,  and  it  was  indisputable  that  the  Talbot-Lowry 
family-coach  was  running  on  the  down-grade. 

The  law  of  averages  is  a  stringent  one,  and  it  may  be 
assumed  with  reasonable  certainty,  that  when  one  ancient 
and  respectable  family-coach  runs  down  hill,  another  vehicle, 
probably  of  more  modern  equipment,  will  go  up.  In  the  case 
under  consideration,  the  operations  of  this  principle  were 
less  obscure  than  is  sometimes  the  way  with  them.  As 
Mount  Music  descended,  so  did  No.  6,  The  Mall,  Cluhir, 
rise,  and  Dr.  Mangan's  growing  prosperity  compensated  Fate 
for  the  decline  in  Major  Talbot-Lowry's  affairs,  with  a  pre- 
cision that,  to  a  person  interested  in  the  statistics  of  averages, 


I 


164  MOUNT   MUSIC 

might  have  seemed  beautiful.  The  Big  Doctor  was  now 
the  leading  man  in  Cluhir,  leader  in  its  councils  and  its 
politics.  On  his  professional  side,  his  advice  and  ministra- 
tions were  in  demand  even  beyond  the  range  of  his  motor  car, 
and  the  measure  of  his  greatness  may  be  best  estimated  when 
it  is  mentioned  that  his  motor  had  been  the  first  to  startle 
the  streets  of  his  native  town. 

Major  Talbot-Lowry  was  of  the  Old  Guard,  who,  in  those 
now  far  away  times,  swore  never  to  surrender  to  what  he 
held  to  be  so  thoroughly  unsportsmanlike  an  innovation 
as  a  motor  car,  and  the  Doctor  was  accustomed  to  offer 
facetious  apologies  when  he  and  his  car  drew  up  at  the  Mount 
Music  hall  door.  This  had  become  a  fairly  frequent  occur- 
rence. Dick  was  not  the  man  he  had  been.  When  his 
hounds  went,  old  age  came,  and  it  came  Uke  an  illness, 
bewilderingly,  unexpectedly.  Dick's  long,  straight  legs  began 
to  give  at  the  knees,  and  his  square  shoulders  learned 
the  hollow  curve  of  the  back  of  his  armchair,  and  submitted 
to  it.  His  long  sight,  that  had  outlived  the  infliction  of 
spectacles  for  reading,  was  failing  him  ;  he  had  twice  tally- 
ho'd  away  a  yellow  cur-dog,  at  less  than  a  field's  distance. 

"  No.  Mangan,  I'll  be  damned  if  I  go  out  to  make  a  fool 
of  myself  and  the  hounds  !  "  he  said,  when  reproached  by 
the  Doctor  for  staying  at  home.  *'  The  sooner  I'm  put  down 
like  an  old  hound,  the  better  !  " 

Dr.  Mangan  had  been  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  had 
assured  Dick  that  Bill  Kirby  was  "  lost  altogether  "  for  want 
of  his  counsels,  and  that  the  whole  field  were  saying  the 
Major  was  the  only  man  to  show  sport,  and  that  he  knew  the 
way  a  fox'd  run,  as  well  as  if  he  was  inside  him  1 

"  In  company  with  another  old  gander,  I  suppose  !  "  says 
poor  Dick,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  being  both  moved  and 
cheered  by  his  own  jest. 

The  Doctor's  presence  was  partly  a  reassurance  and  partly 
a  menace,  to  Major  Dick.  There  had  been,  from  time  to 
time,  further  opportunities  for  the  investment  of  the  Doctor's 
"  spare  ha'pence  "  in  "  something  solid  and  safe,  Uke  land." 
Aunt  Bessie  Cantwell's  money,  for  instance,  had,  on  her 
demise,  all  come  Dr.  Mangan's  way.  There  was  no  need 
for  the  Maior  to  think  there  was  any  obligation,  he  might 
call  it  a  mutual  advantage,  if  he  liked,  anyhow,  why  should'nt 


MOUNT    MUSIC  165 

the  money  go  where  it  was  w^anted  ?     The  security  was  all 
right. 

"  Oh  yes,"  says  Dick,  "  that's  right  enough,  and  whenever 
I  can  come  to  terms  with  the  tenants " 

"  No  hurry  !  "  the  Big  Doctor  would  answer  ;  "  five  per 
cent,  is  good  enough  for  me  !  " 

The  Doctor,  alone  of  all  Dick's  friends,  sympathised  with 
Major  Talbot-Lowry  in  the  matter  of  the  tenants,  and  he 
condemned  the  conduct  of  his  own  son,  Barty,  as  heartily 
as  did  Dick  that  of  his  nephew,  in  their  dealings  with  the 
Coppinger  estate. 

"  'Tis  impossible  to  hold  these  young  fellows,"  he  said, 
severely,  while  he  and  Dick  strolled  slowly  round  the  weedy 
flower  garden  of  Mount  Music,  one  sunny  August  afternoon, 
four  years  after  Larry's  coming  of  age  ;  "You  may  be  sure  that 
I  pointed  out  to  Barty  that  he  and  Larry  were  playing  the 
deuce  with  you  over  the  sale,  but  what  could  I  do  .''  After 
all,  Barty  had  to  obey  the  orders  he  got  from  his  boss  !  " 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  responded  Dick.  "  My  dear  fellow, 
I  don't  blame  jow  ,  my  own  cousin's  a  different  pair  of  shoes  ! 
Richard  may  fight  it  out  with  the  tenants  when  I'm  gone. 
He'll  have  to  marry  money.  Why,  my  God  !  If  I  sold  at 
these  fellows*  price,  the  property  would  hardly  clear  itself ! 
At  least,"  Dick  cleared  his  throat  and  picked  himself  up  with 
a  guilty  jerk,  as  does  a  horse  who  stumbles  from  careless- 
ness, "  at  least,  it  would  cover  the  charges,  and — and  the 
mortgages  of  course — but  net  much  more " 

Dr.  Mangan  looked  straight  in  front  of  him,  as  became  a 
mortgagee  of  dehcate  feeling,  and  said  with  some  elaborate- 
ness. "  No  man  need  be  anxious  about  money  whose  security 
is  Irish  land,  nowadays.     '  Tis  daily  appressiating  in  value." 

**  To  every  man  except  the  owner  !  " 

Dick  struck  hard  with  his  ash-plant  at  a  tall  weed  as  he 
spoke,  and  decapitated  it  with  the  grace  and  dexterity  of  the 
old  cavalryman.  He  put  force  enough  into  the  cut  to  have 
felled  a  tougher  foe. 

*'  This  place  is  turned  into  a  wilderness "  he  went  on 

and  then,  staggering,  caught  at  the  Doctor's  thick  arm. 

In  an  instant  the  Big  Doctor  had  his  other  arm  round 
Dick's  shoulders,  and  held  him  firm. 

"  Stand  still,  Major,  it's  nothing  !     You'll  be  all  right  in 


i66  MOUNT    MUSIC 

a  minute  !  "  he  said,  meeting  Dick's  frightened  eyes  with 
reassuring  steadiness.  **  The  sun's  very  hot.  It's  only  a 
touch  of  giddiness " 

He  stood,  a  great  rock  of  support,  uttering  leisurely  words 
of  consolation,  while  he  quietly  slipped  one  hand  down  the 
Major's  arm,  until  his  broad,  perceptive  finger-tips  could 
feel  the  faint  pulse  jerking  under  their  pressure. 

Dick's  colour  crept  back,  and  the  veins,  that  had  showTi 
blue  on  the  sudden  yellow  of  his  cheek,  began  to  lose  their 
vividness. 

"  That's  more  like  it  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  tranquilly.  **  Do 
you  sit  quite  here  for  a  minute,  now,  and  I'll  go  get  you  a 
drop  of  something  from  our  friend,  Mr.  Evans,  that'll  do 
you  no  harm  !  " 

He  established  his  patient  on  a  garden  seat,  and  left  him, 
moving  slowly  until  he  knew  he  was  no  longer  in  sight  ; 
then  he  swung  into  the  house,  with  swift  strides  that  would 
have  compelled  a  smaller  man  to  run,  if  he  were  to  keep 
level  with  him. 

**  Poor  old  lad  !  "  he  thought,  compassionately  ;  yet, 
blended  with  the  compassion,  was  the  half -unconscious 
triumph  of  strong  middle-age  at  sight  of  the  failure  of  a 
senior.  "  That's  the  first  knock.  He'll  want  to  mind 
himself  from  this  out — the  next  one  might  hit  him  harder." 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

The  back  stairs  at  Mount  Music  were  old  and  precipitous. 
To  descend  them  at  high  noon  demanded  circumspection  ; 
at  night,  when  the  armies  of  the  cockroaches  were  abroad,  and 
marauding  rats  came  flopping  up  and  down  them,  upon  their 
unlawful  occasions,  only  that  man  of  iron,  Robert  Evans, 
was  proof  to  their  terrors.  Christian,  even  though  inured 
from  childhood  to  the  backstairs,  held  her  habit  skirt  high, 
and  thanked  heaven  for  her  riding-boots,  as  she  made  her 
way  down  the  worn  stone  steps,  at  some  half -past  four  of  a 
September  morning. 

Mount  Music  was  one  of  the  many  houses  of  its  period 
that,  with,  to  quote  Mrs.  Dixon,  '*  the  globe  of  Ireland  to 
build  over,"  had  elected  to  bestow  its  menials  in  dark  and 
complex  basements.  Christian  and  her  candle  traversed 
the  long  maze  of  underground  passages.  The  smell  of  past 
cooking  was  in  the  air,  the  black  and  evil  glitter  of  cockroaches 
twinkled  on  the  walls  on  either  hand.  This  was  the  horrible 
part  of  cubbing,  thought  Christian,  and  told  herself  that 
nothing  but  the  thought  of  seeing  the  debut  of  Dido,  the  puppy 
that  she  had  walked,  would  compensate  her  for  facing  the 
cockroaches. 

As  she  opened  the  kitchen  door  she  was  surprised  to  find  a 
lighted  lamp  on  the  table.  In  the  same  glance  she  caught 
a  gHmpse  of  a  figure,  retreating  hastily,  with  slippered  shufile, 
followed  by  the  trailing  tappings  of  braces  off  duty.  On  one 
end  of  the  long  kitchen  table  was  seated  a  cat,  in  motionless 
meditation,  like  a  profile  in  an  Egyptian  hieroglyphic  ;  at 
the  other  end  was  a  steaming  cup  of  cocoa  and  a  plateful  of 
bread  and  butter. 

*'  Long  life  to  Evans  !  "  thought  Christian,  seating  herself, 
like  the  cat,  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  entering  upon  the 
cocoa. 

167 


i68  MOUNT    MUSIC 

*'  Miss  Christian  !  "  a  raven-croak  came  through  a  slit  of 
the  pantry-door  ;  "  keep  off  the  Carmodys'  land  !  Mind 
now  what  I'm  tellin'  you  !  "     The  slit  ceased. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  cocoa,  Evans,  but  why  must  I  ?  '* 
called  Christian,  in  a  breath. 

A  lower  croak,  that  seemed  to  end  with  the  words  "  black 
papishes,"  came  through  the  closed  door. 

"  Old  lunatic  !  "  thought  Christian  ;  she  drank  the  cocoa, 
and  putting  cut  the  lamp,  groped  her  way  to  the  back-door. 
It  opened  on  a  shrieking  hinge,  and  she  was  out  into  a  pale 
grey  dawn,  pure  and  cold,  with  the  shiver  and  freshness  of 
new  life  in  it. 

The  Mount  Music  stable  yard  was  an  immense  square, 
with  buildings  round  its  four  sides,  and  a  high,  ivy-covered 
battlemented  wall  surrounding  and  overlooking  all.  In  the 
middle  of  the  yard  was  an  island  of  grass,  on  which  grew 
three  wide-armed  and  sombre  Irish  yews,  dating,  Hke  the 
walls,  from  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Weeds  were 
growing  in  the  gravel  of  the  wide  expanse  ;  more  than  one 
stable-door  dropped  on  broken  hinges  under  its  old  cut- 
stone  pediments  ;  the  dejection  of  a  faded  and  remembered 
prosperity  lay  heavy  on  all  things  in  the  thin,  cold  air  of  that 
September  dawn. 

The  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs  came  cheerfully  from  a  stable, 
and,  as  Christian  crossed  the  yard,  a  dishevelled  young  man, 
with  a  large  red  moustache,  put  his  head  over  the  half-door. 

**  I'm  this  half-hour  striving  to  girth  her.  Miss,"  he  com- 
plained, **  she  got  very  big  entirely  on  the  grass  ;  the 
surcingle's  six  inches  too  short  for  her,  let  alone  the  way  she 
have  herself  shwoU  up  agin  me  !  " 

Charles,  once  ruler  and  lawgiver,  was  dead,  and,  with  the 
departure  of  the  hounds.  Major  Dick's  interest  in  the  stables 
had  died  too  ;  his  tall,  grey  horse  was  ending  his  days  in 
bondage  to  the  outside  car  ;  the  meanest  of  the  underlings 
who  had  grovelled  beneath  Charles'  top-boots,  was  now  in 
sole  charge,  and  had  grown  a  moustache,  unchecked  ;  and 
Christian's  only  mount  was  a  green  four-year-old  filly,  in 
whom  she  had  invested  the  economies  of  a  Hfe-time,  with  but 
a  dubious  chance  of  their  recovery. 

"  Can't  you  get  a  bit  of  string  and  tie  up  the  surcingle, 
Tommy  ?  "   suggested    Christian,    who   was    now   too    well 


f 


MOUNT    MUSIC  169 

used  to  these  crises  in  the  affairs  of  the  stable  to  be  much 
moved  by  them. 

"  Sure,  I'm  after  doing  it,  Miss.  T'would  make  a  cat 
laugh  the  ways  I  have  on  it  1  She's  a  holy  fright  altogether 
with  the  mane  and  the  tail  she  have  on  her  !  I  tried  to  pull 
them  last  night,  and  she  went  up  as  straight  as  a  ribbon  in 
the  stable  !  " 

The  flushed  face  and  red  moustache  were  withdrawn, 
and  with  considerable  clattering  and  shouting,  the  holy 
fright  was  led  forth.  She  was  a  small  and  active  chestnut 
mare,  with  a  tawny  fleece,  a  mane  like  a  prairie  fire,  and  a 
tail  like  a  comet.  Her  impish  eyes  expressed  an  alarm  that 
was  more  than  half  simulated,  and  the  task  of  manc^euvring 
her  into  position  beside  the  mounting  block,  was  comparable 
only  to  an  endeavour  to  extract  a  kitten  from  under  a  bed 
with  the  lure  of  a  reel  of  cotton.  An  apple  took  the  place  of 
the  reel  of  cotton,  and  its  consumption  afforded  Christian 
just  time  enough  to  settle  herself  in  her  saddle.  Since  the 
days  of  Harry  the  Residue  Christian  had  ridden  many  and 
various  horses,  and  she  had  a  reputation  for  making  the  best 
ot  a  bad  job  that  had  often  earned  her  mounts  from  those 
who,  wishing  to  sell  a  horse  as  a  lady's  hunter,  were  anxious 
to  impart  some  slight  basis  of  fact  into  the  transaction. 
Tommy  Sullivan  watched  her  admiringly. 
"  Where's  the  meet.  Miss  }  "  he  said,  quickly,  as  she  started, 
and  as  if  he  were  struck  bv  a  sudden  thought. 
''Nad  Wood." 

"  If  they  run  the  Valley,  Miss,  mind  out  for  wire  !  "  called 
Tommy  after  her,  as  she  rode  out  of  the  yard.  "  Carmody's 
fences  are  strung  with  it  !  " 

He  ran  to  the  gate  to  watch  the  mare  as  she  capered  and 
plunged  sideways  along  the  drive,  and  thanked  God,  not  for 
the  first  time,  for  the  heavs^  hands  that  preser\-ed  him  from 
the  duty  of  riding  Miss  Christian's  horses. 

Christian  rode  past  the  long  ivy-covered  face  of  the  house, 
that  stared  at  her  with  the  wall-eyed  glare  of  shuttered 
windows,  and  down  the  long  avenue,  that  curved  submissive 
to  the  windings  of  the  Ownashee,  now  black  and  brimming 
after  a  week  of  rain.  Young  cattle,  that  had  slept,  according 
to  their  custom,  on  the  roadway,  scrambled  up  as  she  came 
near,    and    crashed    away    through    the    evergreens,    whose 


170  MOUNT    MUSIC 

bared  lower  branches  bore  witness  to  their  depredations. 
They  were  a  sight  hateful  to  Christian,  who,  in  spite  of  her 
resignation  to  the  methods  of  her  groom,  cherished  a  regard 
for  tidiness  that  she  had  often  found  was  more  trouble  than 
it  was  worth. 

She  let  Nancy,  the  chestnut  mare,  have  her  head,  a  privilege 
that  made  short  work  of  the  remaining  half-mile  of  avenue, 
and  soon  the  stones  and  mud  of  the  high  road  were  flying 
behind  her,  as  the  little  mare,  snatching  at  her  bridle,  and 
neglecting  no  opportunity  for  a  shy,  fretted  on  towards  the 
sunrise,  and  the  covert  that  lay,  purple,  on  a  long  hill,  three 
miles  away. 

Bill  Kirby's  foible  was  not  punctuality  ;  when  Christian 
arrived  at  the  appointed  cross-roads  in  the  middle  of  Nad 
Wood  she  found  a  patient  little  group  of  three  or  four  men, 
farmers,  all  of  them,  she  thought,  waiting  under  the  dewy 
branches  of  the  beeches  for  the  arrival  of  the  hounds.  One 
of  them  rode  quickly  from  the  group  to  meet  her.  A  young 
man,  with  a  slight  figure  and  square  shoulders,  who  was 
riding  a  long-legged  bay  horse,  that,  like  its  rider,  was 
unknown  to  Christian.  The  light  under  the  beech  trees 
was  dim  and  green,  and  such  faint  illumination  as  the  grey 
and  quiet  sky  afforded,  was  coming,  like  this  rider,  to  meet 
Christian.  He  was  close  to  her  before  he  spoke,  then  he 
caught  his  cap  off  his  head  and  waved  it,  and  shouted  : 

**  Hurrah,  Christian  !  Here  I  am  !  Home  again  !  Don't 
pretend  you  never  saw  me  before,  because  I  won't  stand 
swagger  from  you  !  " 

"  Larry  !     Not  you  ?     Not  really  ?  " 

He  had  her  hand  by  this  time,  and  was  shaking  it 
wildly,  despite  the  resentment  of  the  chestnut  mare,  at  the 
sudden  proximity  of  the  bay  horse. 

**  Yes  !  Me  all  right  !  Mot  qui  vous  path — as  we  say  in 
French  Paris  !  I  only  got  home  last  night.  I  bought  this 
chap  at  Sewell's  on  my  way  through.  He's  a  County 
Limerick  horse.     I  bet  he's  a  goer  !     How  do  you  like  him  }  " 

It  was  like  Larry  to  require,  instantly,  praise  and  recogni- 
tion for  his  new  purchase,  but  Christian  wasn't  thinking  of 
the  horse.  Her  wide,  clear  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  rider,  her 
mind  was  a  hustle  of  questions. 

Had  he  changed  ?    Would  he  stay  ?     Did  he  know  that 


MOUNT    MUSIC  171 

he  was  **  in  black  books  "  with  her  father  ?     Would  he  care 

if  he  did  know  ?     What  ages  it  seemed !     Four  years, 

wasn't  it  ?  Her  brain  was  working  too  hard  to  remember, 
but  she  certainly  remembered  that  he  had  not  had  a  moustache 
when  he  was  last  at  home  ;  such  a  fanciful  little  French 
scrap  of  a  moustache  as  it  was  too,  made  of  pure  gold  ! 

*'  I  rather  like  it,  Larry  !  "  she  said,  beaming  at  him  ; 
**  quite  nice  !  " 

**  What  ?  What's  quite  nice  ?  "  says  Larry,  beaming  back  ; 
"  oh,  this  ? "  He  gave  the  moustache  an  extra  upward 
twist.  "  Yes,  rather  so  !  Beats  the  Kaiser's  to  fits,  I 
flatter  myself  !  Fm  glad  you  like  it,  but  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  help  it  !  " 

Yes  !  This  was  the  old  Larry,  the  right  one  ;  Christian 
felt  very  glad.  It  might  so  easily  have  been  some  one  else, 
some  one  not  half  so  nice  as  her  own  old  Larry. 

"  Why  on  earth  didn't  you  say  you  were  coming  }  Cousin 
Freddy  told  us  that  you  were  painting  at  Etaples." 

**  So  I  was  till  one  fine  day  I  'took  the  notion  for  to  cross 
the  raging  ocean,'  and  I  'm  jolly  glad  I  did  too  !  Oh,  by  Jove  ! 
Look  at  old  Bill  and  the  hounds  !  What  a  swell  !  Christian, 
do  you  know  I  haven't  seen  a  hound  for  four  years  !  Do  you 
mind  if  I  call  them  *  dogs,'  just  till  I  get  used  to  them  a 
bit .?  '* 

There  are  few  bonds  more  enduring  than  those  that  are 
woven  round  the  playmates  of  childhood.  In  how  many 
raids  had  Larry  not  been  Christian's  trusted  leader  !  What 
stolen  dainties  had  they  not  shared,  what  punishments  not 
endured  together  !  Larry's  three  years  of  seniority  had  only 
deepened  the  reverence  and  loyalty  that  he  had  inspired  in 
his  youngest  follower  ;  he  had  never  presumed  upon  them ; 
he  had  been  a  chieftain  worthy  of  homage,  and  he  had 
had  all  Christian's.  There  are  some  people  who  appear  to 
change  their  natures  when  they  grow  up.  They  may  have 
been  pleasing  as  little  boys  or  girls  ;  they  may  be  equally 
agreeable  as  men  and  women,  but  there  is  no  continuity  and 
no  development.  They  have  become  new  creatures.  Christian, 
alone  of  her  family,  was  essentially  as  she  had  ever  been, 
and,  being  of  those  whose  inward  regard  is  as  searching  as 
their  outward  observation,  she  knew  it.  Now,  Larr}^  had 
come  back  again,  and  in  half-a-dozen  sentences   she   knew 


172  MOUNT    MUSIC 

that  neither  had  he  changed,  and  that  with  him  her  ancient 
leader  had  returned. 

The  Wood  of  Nad  (which,  being  interpreted,  means  a  nest) 
filled  a  pocket  on  the  side  of  Lissoughter  Hill,  and  had  thence 
spread  over  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  ended  near  the  cross- 
roads at  w^hich  the  hounds  had  met. 

*'  Don't  holloa  away  an  old  fox.  I  want  to  kill  a  cub  if  I 
can.  I'll  let  you  know  if  the  hounds  get  away  below.  You 
needn't  be  afraid  I  won't  !     Open  the  gate  !  " 

Thus,  magisterially,  the  Master,  standing  at  the  gate 
into  the  wood,  with  the  hounds  crushing  round  his  horse's 
heels.     "  '  Leu  in  there  !  " 

With  a  squeal  or  two  of  excitement  from  Dido  and  her 
brethren-puppies,  the  hounds  squeezed  through  the  narrow 
gateway,  and  were  swallowed  up  by  the  wood. 

Larry  returned  to  Christian's  side. 

"  I  hate  not  seeing  Cousin  Dick  out,"  he  began  ;  **  what 
a  pity  he  gave  'em  up  !  Why  did  he  }  You  know.  Christian, 
you  were  pretty  rotten  about  writing  to  me  !  Aunt  Freddy 
never  tells  me  a  thing  about  the  Hunt  !  I  didn't  even  know 
Cousin  Dick  had  chucked  till  I  saw  it  in  The  Field. ^^ 

Larry  was  staring  at  Christian  as  he  spoke.  He,  like  her, 
was  searching  for  his  former  comrade  ;  but,  unlike  her, 
was  doing  so  unconsciously,  as  Larry  did  most  things.  What 
he  believed  himself  to  be  doing  was  appraising  her  appear- 
ance from  a  painter's  point  of  view.  He  found  he  had 
forgotten  her  eyes.  He  tried  to  think  of  them  in  terms  of 
paint  ;  Brun  de  Bruxelles,  and  a  touch  of  cadmium,  or  was  it 
Verte  Emeraiide  ?  Hang  it  !  How  can  paint  do  more  than 
suggest  the  colours  of  a  sunlit  moorland  pool  ?  Was  it  the 
white  hunting-tie  that  gave  that  special  "  value  "  to  her  face  ? 
He  had  forgotten  how  delicious  in  tone  was  the  faint  colour 
that  just  tinted  her  cheek  ;  so  hopeless  a  word  as  pink 
was  not  to  be  thought  of ;  just  a  hint  of  Rose  Garance  doree 
might  do  it.  And  to  get  the  drawing  of  those  subtle  outlines, 
the  ineffable  refinement  of  all  her  features.  Larry  put  his 
head  on  one  side,  and  screwed  up  his  eyes  (remembering 
faithfully  the  injunctions  of  "  dear  old  Chose,"  en  cliqnant 
bien  les  yeux)  and  said  to  himself  that  she  would  put  dear 
old  Chose  himself  to  his  trumps,  and  then  maybe  he  wouldn't 
get  her  right  ! 


MOUNT    MUSIC  173 

Aloud  he  said,  peremptorily  and  professionally  : 

"  Christian,  I'm  going  to  paint  you  !  Eight  o'clock  at 
the  studio  to-morrow  morning,  Ma'mselle,  s'il  vous  plait  I  " 

Christian's  response  was  closured  by  a  wild  outcry  from 
the  wood,  hounds  and  horn  lifting  up  their  voices  together 
in  sudden  delirium.  Old  horses  pricked  their  ears,  and  young 
ones,  and  notably,  Nancy,  began  to  fret  and  to  fidget.  Some 
one  said,  unnecessarily  :  "  That's  him  !  "  A  man,  farther 
down  the  road,  turned  his  horse,  and  standing  in  his  stirrups, 
stared  over  the  wall  into  the  thick  covert,  rigid  as  a  dog 
setting  his  game.  Then  he  held  up  his  hat,  and,  a  moment 
later,  something  brown  glided,  with  the  fluent  swiftness 
of  a  fish  in  a  stream,  across  the  road  and  over  the  opposite 
wall.  The  scream  that  followed  him  was  not  needed  ;  was, 
indeed,  hardly  heard  in  the  crashing,  clashing  clamour  of  the 
pack,  as  they  came  pitching  headlong  over  the  wall  of  the  wood, 
and  hurhng  themselves  at  the  opposite  wall.  It  was  high, 
and  had  a  coped  top,  and  the  yelling  hounds  broke  against 
it,  and  fell,  like  waves  against  a  cliflP.  A  couple  achieved  it, 
and  the  anguish  of  their  comrades,  as  they  heard  them  go 
away,  full-cry,  on  the  line,  redoubled.  In  the  same  instant, 
Larry  was  off  his  tall  bay.  He  flung  his  reins  to  Christian, 
and  was  into  the  struggling  pack.  It  is  no  easy  matter  to 
heave  a  hound  over  a  high  wall,  but  Larry  and  a  young  farmer 
had  somehow  shoved  over  four  couple,  before  Bill  Kirby  and 
his  whipper-in  came  and  swept  the  remainder  to  a  place  of 
possible  entrance  a  little  further  on. 

Larry  snatched  his  plunging  horse  from  Christian,  and 
started  to  gallop  before  he  was  fairly  in  the  saddle,  kicking 
his  right  foot  into  the  stirrup  as  he  went,  and  shouting 
gratitude  to  Christian  for  having  held  the  horse.  It  had  net 
been  easy.  Nancy  had  proved  the  accuracy  of  her  groom's 
statement  by  again  "  going  up  as  straight  as  a  ribbon  "  when 
the  hounds  crossed  the  road,  and  the  bay  had  not  been  back- 
ward in  emulating  her  efforts.  Bill  Kirby  had  had  luck  ; 
the  fox  had  run  left-handed  under  the  wall,  and  the  leading 
hounds  met  the  Master,  with  the  body  of  the  pack,  at  the 
verge  of  the  wood  on  its  father  side.  A  bank,  pitted  with 
rabbit-holes,  a  space  of  stony  lane  with  a  pole  at  its  farther 
end,  and  Nad  Wood  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Outside,  a  fair  stretch  of  grass  presented  itself,  falling  in 


174  MOUNT   MUSIC 


mild  gradients  to  the  banks  of  the  Broadwater,  sprinkled  wit 
cattle,  dotted  with  groups  of  trees  clustering  round  white 
farm  houses,  from  whose  chimneys  the  thin,  blue  lines 
of  the  smoke  of  morning  fires  were  just  beginning  to 
ascend. 

But  few  are  able  to  spare  much  thought  for  others  during 
a  first  burst  out  of  covert,  their  strictly  personal  aflairs  being  as 
sufficient  for  them  as  is  the  day's  share  of  good  aaJ  evil  for 
the  day  ;  but  Larry,  looking  often  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
galloped,  did  not  fail  to  note,  despite  his  engrossment  in 
his  new  purchase,  the  ease  and  competence  that  marked 
Christian's  deaHngs  with  the  chestnut  mare,  to  whom  the 
twin  gifts  of  imagination  and  invention  had  been  lavishly 
granted.  It  has  been  ingeniously  said  that  the  enemy  of  the 
aboriginal  horse  was  a  creature  of  about  the  size  of  a  dinner- 
plate,  that  lay  hidden  in  grass  ;  nothing  less  than  a  concealed 
dinner-service  would  have  sufficed  to  account  for  the  mys- 
terious alarms  that  repeatedly  swept  Nancy  from  her  course  ; 
wafting  her,  like  a  leaf,  sideways  from  a  stream,  impelling 
her  to  swing,  from  the  summit  of  a  bank,  back  to  the  field 
from  which  she  had  wildly  sprung  ;  suggesting  to  her  that 
safety  from  the  besetting  dangers  could  alone  be  secured 
by  following  the  bay  horse  (whom,  after  the  manner  of  young 
horses,  she  had  adopted  as  a  father)  so  closely,  and  at  such 
a  rate  of  speed,  that  a  live  torpedo  attached  to  his  tail  could 
hardly  have  been  a  less  desirable  companion. 

At  a  momentary  check,  an  elderly  farmer,  many  of  whose 
horses  had  owed  to  Christian  their  first  introduction  to  a  side 
saddle,  spoke  to  her. 

''  For  God's  sake.  Miss  Christian,"  he  said,  fervently, 
"  go  home  with  that  mare  !  She's  very  peevish  !  I  wouldn't 
like  to  be  looking  at  her  !  She  has  that  way  of  jumping 
stones  her  nose'd  nearly  reach  the  ground  before  her  feet  !  " 

"  Never  fear  that  young  lady's  able  for  her  !  "  struck  in 
another  farmer,  the  former  owner  of  Nancy.  "  How  well 
yourself 'd  be  asking  her  to  be  riding  nags  that  couldn't  see 
the  way  that  little  mare'd  go  !  Didn't  I  see  her  go  mountains 
over  the  stone  gap  awhile  ago  ?  And  yourself  seen  the  same, 
John  Kearney  !  " 

"  If  it  was  mountains  and  pressy-pices  that  w^as  in  it 
itself,"  returned  John  Kearney,  severely,  "I'd  say  the  same, 


i 


MOUNT    MUSIC  175 

Michael   Donovan.      Miss    Christian   knows   me,    and    I'm 
telhng  her " 

At  this  point,  however,  Christian's  attention  was  absorbed 
by  Dido,  who  was  comporting  herself  with  precocious  zeal, 
and,  an  instant  after,  the  dispute  was  ended  by  the  shriek 
with  which  she  proclaimed  her  success.  For  some  fifteen 
minutes  the  hounds  ran  hard  and  fast  ;  Nancy  began  to  settle 
down,  and  to  realise  that  her  adopted  parent  invariably 
changed  feet  on  a  bank,  and  never  jumped  stones  as  if  he 
were  a  cork  bursting  perpendicularly  from  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne. The  fox  was  taking  them  through  the  best  of  the 
Broadwater  Vale  country  ;  pasture-field  followed  pasture- 
field,  in  suave  succession,  the  banks  were  broad  and  benevolent, 
the  going  clean  and  firm.  The  sun  had  just  risen,  and  was 
throwing  the  long  blue  shadows  of  the  hedge-row  trees  on 
the  dew-grey  grass.  The  river  valley  was  full  of  silver  mists, 
changing  and  thinning,  like  the  visions  of  a  clairvoyant, 
yielding  slowly  the  beauty  of  the  river,  and  of  its  garlanding 
trees,  to  those  who  had  eyes  to  see.  The  sky  became  bluer 
each  instant  as  the  sun  rushed  up,  and  Bill  Kirby  said  to 
himself  that  the  hunt  was  too  good  to  last,  and  the  scent 
would  soon  be  scorched  out. 

Not  long  afterwards  came  the  check.     The  fox  had  run 

through  a  strip  of  plantation,  and  in  the  succeeding  field  the 

scent  failed.     It  was  a  wide  pasture-field,  in  which  a  number 

;  of   young    cattle    were    running,    snorting,    bellowing,    and 

I  gathering  themselves  into  defensive  groups  at  the  unwonted 

sight  of  hounds. 

"  That's  a  nice  little  plan  of  a  mare  !  "  said  the  young  farmer 
who  had  helped  Larry  with  the  hounds,  drawing  up  beside 
Christian,  ''  and  you  have  her  in  grand  condition.  Miss  ; 
she's  as  round  as  a  bottle  !  She  has  a  great  jump  in  her  !  " 
he  went  on.  "  She  fled  the  last  fence  entirely  ;  she  didn't 
leave  an  iron  on  it  !  She  was  hopping  off  the  ground  like  a 
ball  !  " 

**  That  was  no  credit  to  her  !  "  said  John  Kearney,  eyeing 
the  mare  and  her  rider  gloomily. 

'*  'Twas  a  sweet  gallop  altogether,"  said  Nancy's  former 
owner,  addressing  Christian,  and  ignoring  Mr.  Kearney's 
challenge,  "  and  the  mare  carried  you  to  fortune  !  But  sure 
it'd  be  as  good  for  you  to  take  her  home  now,  Miss  Christian, 


176  MOUNT    MUSIC 

she  has  enough  done.  The  fences  from  this  out  aren  t  too 
good  at  all."     He  cast  a  glance  at  Kearney. 

*'  Faith,  and  that's  true  for  you,"  said  Kearney  quickly, 
"  Be  said  by  us  now,  Miss  Christian,  and  eo  home.  The  road 
isn't  but  two  fields  back.  The  hounds'll  do  no  more  good, 
sure  the  sun's  too  strong." 

"  Where  are  we  ?  "  broke  in  Larry,  joining  the  group  ; 
**  I've  lost  my  bearings." 

"  Them's  the  Carmodys'  bounds,  sir,"  said  Michael 
Donovan  in  a  colourless  voice,  indicating  the  next  fence. 

*'  Carmody's  }  "  said  Larry.  *'  Then  isn't  the  Derrylugga 
gorse  somewhere  hereabouts  ?  I  see  he's  casting  them 
ahead." 

"  It's  burnt  down,"  said  Christian,  hurriedly.  Something 
in  her  face  checked  Larry's  exclamation.  In  Ireland  people 
learn  to  be  silent  on  a  very  imperceptible  hint. 

The  farmers  moved  away.  Said  Michael  Donovan  in 
a  low  voice  to  John  Kearney  : 

"  Will  she  go  back,  d'ye  think  ?  " 

*'  I  d'no.     Har'ly,  I  think  !  " 

'*  It'd  be  a  pity  anything'd  happen  her.  She's  a  lovely 
girl  to  ride  !  " 

"  You  may  say  that,  Michael  !  The  father  gave  her  the 
sate,  but  it  was  the  Lord  Almighty  gave  her  the  hands  !  " 
said  old  Kearney,  devoutly. 

"  Maybe  He'll  mind  her,  so  !  "  responded  Michael 
Donovan,  without  irreverence. 

The  shifting  of  responsibility  brought  some  ease  of  mind. 

*'  God  grant  it  !  "  said  John  Kearney. 

Christian  was  ordinarily  possessed  of  an  innate  reasonable- 
ness that  responded  to  reason,  but  fear  was  not  in  her,  and  an 
appeal  to  reason  was  least  potent  with  her  when  she  was  in 
the  saddle.  The  veiled  hints  of  danger,  by  which  from, 
F.vans  onwards,  she  had  been  beset,  only  woke  the  spirit  of 
revolt  that  slept  in  her  but  little  less  lightly  than  it  had  slept 
in  her  childhood,  and  were  as  fuel  on  the  flame  the  run  had 
kindled. 

**  Larry,"  she  said,  with  a  Hght  in  her  eyes,  and  a  flush 
in  her  cheeks,  "  do  you  think  I  ought  to  go  back  ?  " 

"  Go  back  ?     Why  should  yo'i  ?  " 

Larry,  having  received  a  hasty  sketch  of  the  position,  gave 


MOUNT    MUSIC  177 

his  advice  with  all  the  assurance  of  complete  ignorance. 
"  Your  father  has  the  sporting  rights — anyhow,  I  don't  believe 
they'll  stop  you.     Irishmen  are " 

Dissertation  as  to  what  Irishmen  were  o*-  were  not,  attract- 
ive though  it  was  to  a  young  man  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
subject,  was  checked  by  the  success  of  Bill  Kirby's  cast 
ahead.  Half  way  across  the  big  field,  the  hounds,  who  had 
been  industriously  spreading  themselves,  and  examining 
blades  of  grass  and  fronds  of  bracken  with  the  intentness  of 
botanists,  came,  with  a  sudden  rush,  to  a  deep  note  from  old 
Bellman,  and,  as  suddenly,  broke  into  full-cry,  with  the  un- 
animity of  an  orchestra  when  the  baton  comes  down.  They 
headed  for  '*  Carmody's  bounds,"  and  were  over  that  solid 
barrier,  and  running  hard  across  the  succeeding  field,  before 
most  of  the  riders  had  realised  what  bad  happened.  The 
bounds  fence  was  an  honest  jump — big,  but  safe.  Nancy, 
at  the  heels  of  the  bay  horse,  came  up  on  to  it  with  a  perfection 
that  banished  all  other  thoughts  from  Christian's  mind. 
On  the  landing  side,  under  the  bank,  was  a  strong-running 
stream,  and  two  or  three  of  the  horses,  at  sight  of  it,  checked 
on  the  wide  top  of  the  bank,  and  tried  to  turn.  Not  so  Nancy. 
It  was  enough  for  her  that  her  father  by  adoption  had  not 
hesitated.  She  slid  her  forefeet  a  little  way  down  the  grassy 
side  and  went  out  over  the  water  as  if  the  bank  had  been  a 
springboard.  It  was  only  then,  at  the  gorgeous  moment  of 
successful  landing,  that  Christian  was  aware  of  a  young 
man  running  towards  the  riders,  bawding,  and  demonstrating 
with  something  that  might  be  a  gun. 

"  That's  one  of  the  Carmodys,  Miss,'*  said  old  Kearney, 
galloping  near  her.  ''  Don't  mind  him  !  It's  as  good  for 
you  to  go  on  now.     That's  the  house  below " 

"  Come  on,  Christian  !  "  shouted  Larry  ;  '*  he'll  do  no 
harm  !  " 

The  thought  crossed  Christian's  mind  that  it  might  be 
better  to  disregard  these  counsels,  and  to  stop  and  speak  to 
the  assailant,  but  Nancy  had  views  of  her  own,  and  such 
arguments  as  a  snafile  could  off'er  were  quite  unavailing. 
"  I  might  as  well  go  on,"  thought  Christian,  *'  we  shall  be 
off  his  land  in  a  minute." 

A  very  high  bank,  crowned  with  furze  and  thorn  bushes, 
divided  them  from  the  next  field  ;   there  was  but  one  gap  in 

M 


178  MOUNT   MUSIC 

It,  near  the  farm-house,  and  this  was  filled  with  a  complicated 
erection  of  stones  and  sods,  built  high,  with  light  boughs 
of  trees  laid  upon  them  ;  not  a  nice  place,  but  the  only 
practicable  one.  Bill  Kirby  and  his  whipper-in  jumped  it  ; 
some  of  the  farmers  drew  back,  but  Larry's  bay  horse  charged 
it  unhesitatingly,  and  soared  over  it  with  the  whole-souled 
gallantry  of  a  well-bred  horse.  Nancy,  pulling  hard,  followed 
him.  Christian  heard  Larry  shout,  and,  looking  round,  saw  him 
turn  in  his  saddle  and  strike  with  his  crop  at  something  unseen. 
At  the  last  instant,  as  the  mare  was  making  her  spring,  a 
second  man  appeared  on  the  farther  side  of  the  jump,  yeUing, 
and  brandishing  a  wide-bladed  hay-knife.  To  stop  was 
impossible  ;  Christian  could  only  utter  a  sharp  cry  of  warning, 
as  Nancy,  baulked  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack,  but  unable 
to  stop  herself,  went  up  almost  straight  into  the  air,  and  came 
down  on  the  boughs,  with  her  hindlegs  on  one  side  of  them 
and  her  forelegs  on  the  other.  Then  she  fell  forward  on  to 
her  knees,  and  rolled  on  to  her  off  shoulder,  her  hind  legs 
still  entangled  in  the  boughs.  Christian  fell  with  her,  and 
as  the  mare's  shoulder  came  to  the  ground,  her  rider  was 
thrown  a  little  beyond  her  on  the  off  side.  The  man,  having 
saved  himself  by  a  leap  to  one  side,  had  instantly  taken  to 
his  heels. 

Christian  was  on  her  feet  before  even  Larry,  quick  as  he 
was  in  stopping  his  horse  and  flinging  himself  from  his  back, 
could  reach  her. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  The  question,  so  fraught  with  fear, 
and  breathless  with  remembered  disasters,  was  answered 
almost  before  it  was  uttered. 

"  Not  a  scrap  !  Absolutely  all  right ;  but  I  don't  know 
about  Nancy '" 

One  of  the  mare's  hind  feet  was  wedged  in  the  fork  of  a 
bough  ;  she  struggled  fiercely,  and  in  a  second  or  two  she 
had  freed  both  her  hind  legs  from  the  tangle  of  twigs,  and  lay 
prone  at  the  foot  of  the  barricade. 

"  She's  all  right  !  He  didn't  touch  her,"  said  Larry, 
catching  her  by  the  bridle.     "  Come,  mare  !  " 

Nancy  made  an  effort,  attempting  to  get  on  to  her  feet, 
and  rolled  over  again  on  to  her  side. 

'*  Oh,  get  the  mare  up,  one  of  you  !  "  shouted  Larry,  wild 
with  the  rage  that  had  gathered  force  from  the  terror  by  which 


MOUNT   MUSIC  179 

it  had  first  been  strangled.     "  I  want  to  go  after  that  damned 
coward '" 

He  caught  his  horse's  bridle  from  a  man  who  had  climbed 
over  the  bank,  leaving  his  own.  horse  on  the  farther  side. 

"  Why  the  devil  did  none  of  you  stop  the  brute  }  "  he 
stormed  at  the  little  group,  now  standing  on  the  bank,  looking 
down  upon  the  prostrate  mare,  while  he  tried  to  steady  his 
plunging  horse  in  order  to  mount. 

"  It's  no  good  for  you,  sir  !  "  called  John  Kearney  to  him  ; 
"  he's  away  back  of  the  house,  ye'll  never  get  him  !  " 

"  Don't  go,  Larry,"  said  Christian,  who  was  kneeling  by 
Nancy,  caressing  her  and  murmuring  endearments.  **  I'm 
afraid  she's  badly  hurt." 

The  mare  was  lying  still.  Michael  Donovan,  who  had  bred 
her,  slipped  his  hand  under  her,  and  drew  it  out,  red  with 
blood. 

**  Go  after  him,  if  ye  like,  the  bloody  ruffian  !  "  he  said, 
furiously,  "  but  the  marc  will  never  rise  from  this  !  Oh, 
my  lovely  little  mare  !  " 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Larry  let  his  horse  go,  and  flung 
himself  on  his  knees  beside  Donovan.  Christian,  colourless 
continued  to  try  and  soothe  Nancy,  who  lay  without  moving, 
though  her  frightened  eye  turned  from  one  to  another,  and 
her  ears  twitched. 

**  Staked  she  is  !"  roared  Donovan;  "  that's  what  I  mean  ! 
Look  at  what's  coming  from  her  !  " 

He  broke  into  a  torrent  of  crude  statements,  made,  if 
possible,  more  horrible  by  curses. 

Larry  struck  him  on  the  mouth  with  his  open  hand. 

"  Shut  your  mouth  !     Remember  the  lady  !  " 

Michael  Donovan  took  the  blow  as  a  dog  might  take  it, 
and  without  more  resentment. 

Christian  quickly  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

'*  Don't  mind,  Michael.  Let  me  see  what  has  happened 
to  her " 

Nancy's  eye  rolled  back  at  Christian,  as  she  stooped  over 
her,  leaning  on  Donovan.  Already,  a  dark  pool  was  forming 
beside  her. 

'*  You  couldn't  see  where  the  branch  bet  her,  Miss,'*  said 
Donovan,  quieted  by  Christian's  touch,  '*  but  there's  what 


i8o  MOUNT   MUSIC 

done  it  !  "  He  pointed  to  the  sharp,  jagged  end  of  one  of 
the  branches,  red  with  blood. 

**  The  Vet —  "  said  Christian,  trying  to  think,  speaking 
steadily.     **  Couldn't  someone  fetch  Mr.  Cassidy  ?  *' 

"  No  good,  my  dear,"  said  old  Kearney,  wagging  his  head  ; 
"  No  good  at  all  !  There's  no  medicine  for  her  now  but 
what '11  come  out  of  a  gun  !  " 

Christian  looked  up  into  the  faces  of  the  little  knot  of  men 
round  her. 

"  Is  that  true  ?  "  she  said,  watching  them. 

And  all  the  time  a  voice  in  her  mind  said  to  her  that  it  was 
true. 

**  God  knows  I  wouldn't  wish  it  for  the  best  money  ever 
I  handled,"  said  one  man,  and  looked  aside  from  her  eyes. 

Another  shook  his  head,  and  muttered  something  about 
the  Will  o'  God.  A  third  said  it  was  the  sharp  end  of  the 
branch  that  played  hammock  with  her  ;  he  lost  a  cow  once 
himselfthe  same  way.  Old  Kearney  summed  up  for  the  group. 

**  There  is  no  doubt  in  it,  Miss  Christian,  my  dear  child — " 

Christian  leaned  hard  on  Larry's  shoulder  as  she  rose  to 
her  feet. 

"  I'm  going  to  get  Carmody's  gun,"  she  said,  beginning  to 
walk  away.  "  He  had  one.  I  saw  it.  I  don't  suppose 
he'll  mind  lending  it  to  me." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

There  are  illnesses  that  take  possession  of  their  victims 
slowly  and  quietly,  with  an  imperceptible  start,  and  a  gradual 
crescendo  of  envelopment  ;  others  there  are,  that  strike, 
sudden  as  a  hawk,  or  a  bullet.  And  this  is  true  also  of  that 
other  illness,  the  fever  of  the  mind  and  heart  that  is  called 
Love.      An  old  song  says,  and  says,  for  the  most  part,  truly, 

**  I  attempt  from  Love's  sickness  to  fly  in  vain." 

Larry  Coppinger  did  not  attempt  to  fly,  even  though  he 
knew  as  precisely  the  moment  when  the  fever  struck  him, 
as  did  Peter's  wife's  mother  when  her  fever  left  her.  Perhaps 
he  might  then  have  tried  to  escape  ;  he  knew  it  was  too  late 
now.  That  fatal  rapturous  moment  had  been  when  he  saw 
Christian  setting  forth,  a  lonely,  piteous  figure,  to  fetch 
Carmody's  gun.  He  had  followed  her,  and  his  entreaties 
to  her  to  let  him  deal  with  the  matter  had  prevailed.  She 
had  turned  back,  and  kneehng  down  again,  kissed  the  white 
star  on  Nancy's  forehead,  murmuring  something  to  her  that 
Larry  could  not  hear.  He  had  put  her  saddle  on  his  own 
horse  ;  when  he  mounted  her,  she  had  stooped  down  from  the 
tall  horse's  back,  and  had  whispered  :  *'  '  That  thou  hast  to 
do,  do  quickly.'  "  He  went  over  it  all  in  his  mind  ;  that  was 
all  she  had  said,  and  he  had  not  seen  her  since. 

On  that  afternoon  as  he  moved  about  the  room  he  had 
chosen  for  his  studio,  and  unpacked  the  monster  cases  he 
had  brought  from  Paris,  he  remembered  how,  long  ago, 
Mrs.  Twomey  had  laughed  at  him  when  he  told  her  he  was 
never  going  to  marry. 

*'  Wait  awhile  !  "  mocked  Mrs.  Twomey,  "  one  day  it'll 
sthrike  ye  all  in  the  minute — the  same  as  a  pairson'd  get 
a  stitch  when  they'd  be  leaning  over  a  churn  !  " 

i8i 


i82  MOUNT    MUSIC 

Well,  it  had  so  struck  him,  and  struck  him  hard,  and  he  was 
reeling  from  the  blow. 

Her  courage,  oh  God  !  her  courage  !  How  she  had  ridden 
that  little  mad  devil  of  a  mare  !  There  wasn't  a  man  out 
who  would  have  got  her  over  that  big  country  as  she  had  ! 
And  then,  when  that  cur  had  done  his  dirty  work  and  bolted, 
was  there  a  whimper  or  a  cry  from  her  ?  She  had  faced  the 
music  ;  she  had  started  off  to  get  the  gun  herself.  He 
knew,  just  a  little,  just  dimly,  he  told  himself  humbly,  what 
the  sight  of  suffering  was  to  her,  and  she  had  stood  up  to  it. 
She,  with  her  passion  for  animals  ;  she,  with  her  tender,  tender 
heart  !  Larry,  who  believed  himself  to  be  profoundly 
introspective,  did  not  know  that  it  was  his  own  flawless 
physical  courage,  finding  and  recognising  its  fellow  in 
Christian,  that  had  first  Ht  the  flame.  He  thought  it  was  her 
face,  with  its  delicate  charm,  its  faint,  elusive  loveliness, 
that  had  felled  him,  laid  him  low,  devastated  him.  He 
pleased  himself  in  reiterating  his  overthrow,  in  enumerating 
its  causes,  while  he  banged  bundles  of  canvases  on  to  the  floor, 
and  pitched  clattering  sketching-easels  and  stools  into 
corners,  and  covered  tables  and  chairs  with  the  myriad  colour- 
boxes,  sketch-books,  palettes  of  every  shape  and  variety, 
brushes,  bottles,  all  the  snares  that  the  ingenious  marchand 
d  couleurs  spreads  in  the  sight  of  the  bird,  and  into  which  the 
bird,  especially  if  he  be,  like  Larry,  a  rich  amateur,  cheerfully 
hops.  He  hardly  was  aware  of  what  he  was  doing,  his  hot 
thoughts  raced  in  his  brain.  It  seemed  to  him  now  to  have 
been  years  ago  that  he  saw  her,  in  the  grey  light,  riding 
towards  him  on  Nancy.  She  had  said  that  he  might  paint 
her  ;  that  was  all  that  he  had  thought  of  then.  Much 
had  happened  since  then  ;  the  supreme  thing  had  happened 
since  then  !  Nothing  else  really  mattered,  he  thought, 
sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  a  half-empty  packing  case,  and 
lighting  a  cigarette,  not  even  the  shooting  of  Nancy.  He 
would  give  her  a  dozen  Nancys  if  she  wanted  them  !  The 
first  and  most  important  thing  in  the  world  was  to  see  her 
again  ;  and  he  had  to  arrange  how,  and  when,  and  where  he 
should  paint  her.  Obviously  he  must  at  once  proceed  to 
Mount  Music. 

There  is  a  saying  among  Larry's  countrymen  :  "  If  a  man 
want  a  thing  he  7nus'  have  it  !  "     Fortune  had,  so  far,  been 


MOUNT    MUSIC  183 

kind  to  Larr}%  and  those  things  that  he  had  wanted  sufficiently, 
he  had  had.  It  now  remained  to  be  proved  if  the  rule  were 
to  have  an  exception. 

*'  I'm  going  over  to  Mount  Music  just  now,"  he  said  to 
Frederica  at  tea  time.  **  I  want  to  see  them  all.  Will  you 
come,  Aunt  Freddy  ?  " 

Aunt  Freddy  looked  perturbed. 

*'  You  haven't  seen  Cousin  Dick  yet,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No.  How  could  I  }  He  wasn't  out.  I've  seen  no  one 
yet  but  Christian." 

His  voice  lingered  on  the  beloved  name,  beloved,  con- 
sciously, since  so  few  hours. 

But  Aunt  Freddy  was  not  apt  to  perceive  fine  shades,  and 
she  was,  moreover,  occupied  with  the  framing  of  a  warning. 

"  You  know  that  Cousin  Dick  is  a  good  deal  changed  since 
you  saw  him  }  "  she  began.  *'  He  had  a  sort  of  heart  attack 
about  a  year  ago — Dr.  Mangan  was  with  him,  luckily.  They 
have  to  try  and  keep  him  very  quiet,  and  the  worst  of  it  is 
that  so  little  puts  him  out." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  put  him  out,  shall  I  ?"  said  Larry,  con- 
fidently, beginning  on  a  third  slice  of  cake,  love  not  having, 
so  far,  impaired  his  appetite. 

"  He  was  fearfully  put  out  about  your  selling  to  the  tenants. 
He  said  young  Mangan  had  no  right  to  advise  you  to  sell  so 
low.  He  told  me  that  even  Dr.  Mangan  was  quite  against 
his  doing  so." 

Miss  Coppinger  regarded  her  nephew  with  anxiety.  After 
four  years  of  absence,  one  never  knew  exactly  how  much  a 
young  man  might  not  have  changed.  That  little,  upturned, 
golden  moustache  might  not  by  any  means  be  the  whole 
of  it.  The  ice  barrier  had  been  forgotten  in  the  excitement 
of  his  return,  but  even  though  she  understood — and  tried 
not  to  feel  that  the  fact  had  its  mitigations — that  all  young 
men  in  France  were  atheists,  that  other  fact  remained, 
that  next  Sunday,  w^hen  she  started  for  Knock  Ceoil  church, 
Larry,  if  he  went  anywhere,  would  go  to  the  white  chapel 
on  the  hill.  Aunt  Freddy  was  afraid  of  no  one  where  she 
believed  herself  to  be  right  (and  the  Spirit  of  the  Nation 
had  long  since  assured  her  of  this  in  matters  of  religion)  ; 
least  of  all  was  she  afraid  of  '*  a  brat  of  a  boy,"  whom,  as  she 
boasted,  she  had  often  whipped  soundly  when  he  deserved 


i84  MOUNT   MUSIC 

it.  But,  unfortunately,  the  brat  had  her  heart  in  his  hands, 
and  her  heart  was  softer  than  Aunt  Freddy  knew  ;  and  this 
gave  the  brat  an  unfair  advantage. 

"  Then  you  know,  Larry,"  she  continued,  her  eyes  showing 
what  her  firm  mouth  did  not  admit  ;  '*  you  know,  my  dear 
boy,  it  was  rather — well,  rather  a  shock  to  us  to  see  in  the 
papers  your  name  proposed  as  the  Nationalist  candidate 
here.  It  upset  Dick  very  much,  and,  I  must  say,"  she  added, 
unflinchingly,  "  me  too  !  " 

Larry  put  down  the  third  piece  of  cake,  half-finished,  and 
went  round  the  tea-table,  and  sitting  on  the  arm  of  Frederica's 
chair,  put  his  arm  round  her  thin  shoulders. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  !  "  he  said,  knowing  his  power,  and  using 
it,  "  dear  Auntie  Fred  !  I  ought  to  have  written  to  you.  I 
forgot  all  about  the  beastly  thing.  But  you  wouldn't  want  me 
to  go  back  of  my  word  }  As  for  the  property — well,  I 
thought  that  was  only  my  own  affair.  I've  come  all  right  out 
of  it  ;  why  shouldn't  I  give  the  tenants  the  best  terms  I 
could  ?  " 

"  Cousin   Dick   says "   began   Frederica,   standing  to 

her  guns. 

"  And  that  other  show,"  went  on  Larry,  disregarding  what 
Cousin  Dick  might  have  said.  **  Goodness  knows  when 
there'll  be  an  election " 

"  That  doesn't  alter  the  fact,"  said  Frederica,  firmly. 

*'  Yes,  I  know.  Of  course  I  must  hold  by  my  own  convictions, 
but  let's  put  off  the  row  until  the  time  comes  !  One  is  bound 
to  have  rows  at  elections  !     I  don't  want  to  fight  now  !  " 

He  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead.  He  was  feeling  in 
love  and  charity  with  all  men.  To  wheedle  Aunt  Freddy 
into  forgiveness  was  the  first  outlet  that  presented  itself  for 
the  excitement  that  was  consuming  him. 

Larry  walked  to  Mount  Music  through  the  Wood  of  the 
Ownashee,  alone.  Miss  Coppinger  said  she  disliked  the  short 
way  across  the  river  by  the  stepping  stones,  and  preferred  to 
drive  the  now  venerable  Tommy  round  by  the  road  ;  in  her 
heart,  brave  as  she  was,  she  trusted  that  Larry  would  have  got 
through  his  meeting  with  Dick  before  she  arrived.  There- 
fore did  Larry  step  along  the  pebbly  path  by  the  river,  under 
the  dense  canopy  of  beechen  boughs,  with,  for  companions, 
only  the  two  hound  puppies  that  Bill  Kirby  did  not  fail  to 


MOUNT    MUSIC  185 

foist  annually  upon  all  amenable  friends.  These  lumbered 
after  Larry's  quick  foot,  with  all  the  engaging  absurdity  of 
their  kind  ;  tripping  over  their  own  enormous  feet,  chewing 
outlying  portions  of  one  another,  as  ill-brought-up  babies 
chew  their  blankets  ;  sitting  down  abruptly  and  unpre- 
meditatedly,  and  watching  with  deep  dubiety  the  departing 
form  of  their  escort,  as  though  a  sudden  and  shattering 
doubt  of  his  identity  had  paralysed  them,  until  some  contrary 
wind  of  doctrine  blew  them  into  action  again,  and  they 
hurled  themselves  upon  his  trail,  filled  with  the  single  inten- 
tion to  rush  between  his  legs.  Nothing  but  that  instinct 
of  self-preservation  that  operates  independent  of  the  reason, 
preserved  Larry  from  frequent  and  violent  overthrow.  His 
head  was  in  the  clouds  ;  he  was  abandoning  himself  to  dreams, 
with  the  very  same  headlong  enthusiasm  that  Scandal  and 
Steersman  brought  to  bear  upon  the  problems  of  existence. 
He  strode  past  the  glade  that  had  been  the  scene  of  the  Cluhir 
picnic  without  so  much  as  a  thought  of  Tishy  Mangan. 
Had  you  or  I  reminded  him  of  that  brief,  yet  moving, 
episode,  he  would  probably  have  regarded  us  with  wide, 
bewildered,  blue  eyes,  and  asked  for  details.  Then,  as 
memory  awakened,  he  would  have  laughed  delightedly, 
and  said  :  "  Yes  !  By  Jove  !  So  I  was  !  But  Georgy  cut 
me  out,  didn't  he  ?  "  And  he  might  have  added  that  there 
had  been  scores  of  them  since  Tishy,  he  had  forgotten  half 
of  them — but  this,  this  !  Larry  would  then,  inevitably, 
have  lapsed  into  rhapsody,  as  would  be  no  more  than  was 
decent  and  right  in  a  young  man  of  artistic  temperament, 
and  you  or  I,  our  malign  intention  baffled,  would  have  retired 
in  deserved  confusion. 

Old  Evans  was  in  the  hall  as  Larry  walked  in  through  the 
open  door.  He  received  Larry's  hand-shake  coldly  ;  the 
four  years  that  had  passed  since  Larry  had  seen  him  had 
withered  and  greyed  him  ;  Larr^',  something  dashed  by  the 
reception,  remembered  the  title  given  him  long  ago  by 
Christian — "  the  many-wintered  crow," — and  found  satis- 
faction in  deciding  that  the  crow  was  a  scald-crow,  and  a  sour 
old  divil  at  that  ;  anyhow,  Evans  had  always  had  a  knife 
into  him,  so  it  made  no  difference. 

In  the  drawing-room  things  went  well  enough,  even  though 
there  was  an  unexplainable  chill  in  the  atmosphere.     Cousin 


i86  MOUNT    MUSIC 

Isabel  was  as  kind  and  gentle  and  vague  as  ever  ;  Judith  was 
there,  very  handsome  and  prosperous,  not  over-enthusiastic 
in  welcome,  rather  inclined  to  patronise  a  very  young  man, 
quite  two  months  younger  than  a  married  lady  of  position 
and  importance.  Nevertheless,  there  was  something 
unregenerate  about  her  eye,  that,  taken  in  connection  with  the 
two  subalterns  in  whose  car  she  had  come  to  call  at  Mount 
Music,  suggested  that  Bill  Kirby  might  at  times  find  life 
stirring.  John,  recently  ordained,  now  a  very  decorative 
curate  in  a  London  church,  was  there,  even  more  patronising 
than  Judith,  and  undecided  whether  to  regard  Larry  with 
suspicion,  as  a  brand  still  smouldering  from  the  fires  of 
secularist  France,  or  affectionately,  as  a  member  of  what, 
in  one  of  his  earlier  sermons,  he  had  described  as  *'  Our 
ancient  Mother  Church,  dear  Peopul  !  Beloved,  but  in  some 
matters,  that  I  will  presently  indicate  to  you,  mistaken  [  " 

The  subalterns  were  remote,  not  approving  of  the  style  of 
Larry's  tie  (which  he  had  bought  in  Paris,  and  diflFered  from 
theirs)  and  Cousin  Dick  was  not  there. 

'*  You  must  go  and  see  him,  dear  Larry,"  says  Cousin 
Isabel,  "  he's  in  the  study." 

"  And  Christian  }  Though,  of  course,  I  met  her  this 
morning "  says  Larry. 

Christian,  poor  child,  went  out  for  a  little  walk  with  the  dogs 
just  now.  Christian  (poor  child)  had  felt  that  wretched  business 
this  morning  so  terribly.  The  wretched  business  was  gone 
into,  thoroughly  and  exhaustively,  and  yet  Larry  felt  that 
across  one  corner  of  it  there  was  a  fold  of  curtain  drawn. 
He  said  he  would  go  and  see  Cousin  Dick.  There  was  always 
a  chance  that  Christian,  also,  might  be  in  the  study.  The 
axiom  that  "  If  a  man  want  a  thing  he  mus'  have  it,"  should, 
in  Larry's  case,  have  the  corollary  that  he  must  have  it  at 
once. 

The  Major  was  standing  by  the  chimney  piece  in  the  study, 
warming  one  foot  after  the  other  at  the  fire  that  Evans  had 
just  replenished.  Larry  met  the  scald-crow  at  the  door,  and 
Evans  passed  him  "as  if,"  thought  Larry,  disgustedly, 
"  he  had  been  seeing  me  every  day  for  a  year  !  The  old 
beast  always  hated  me  !  "     Larry  did  not  Hke  being  hated. 

Cousin  Dick's  greeting  was  more  like  old  times.  Dick 
was  one  of  those  people  whose  wrath  has  a  tendency  to 


MOUNT    MUSIC  187 

intermit  and  get  cold,  even  to  perish,  temporarily,  from 
forgetfulness.  On  the  other  hand,  in  compensation,  perhaps, 
for  this  failing,  it  was  a  fire  easily  rekindled.  He  was 
still  shaking  Larry's  hand,  and  looking  him  up  and  down, 
affectionately,  and  withal,  with  the  inevitable  patronage  of  a 
long-legged  man  for  one  from  whom  Nature  has  withheld 
similar  advantages,  when  Larry  discovered  the  large  presence 
of  Dr.  Mangan  uplifting  itself  from  the  chair  facing  Cousin 
Dick's,  by  the  fire.  (But  Christian  was  not  there.  He 
resigned  himself.)  There  was  no  want  of  warmth  in  the  Big 
Doctor's  reception.  He  was  quite  aware  of  this  himself, 
and  was  artist  enough  to  know  how  useful  an  asset  was  the 
fact  that  he  was  genuinely  fond  of  Larry.  He  had  indeed 
proposed  to  exhibit  his  affection  in  pleasing  contrast  to  the 
coolness  of  Larry's  Protestant  relatives,  and  that  the  Major 
had  forgotten  the  role  assigned  to  him,  was  a  little  disappoint- 
ing. "  But  wait  awhile  !  "  thought  the  Big  Doctor,  who, 
among  his  other  elephantine  qualities,  possessed  that  of 
patience. 

The  Major  seated  himself  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  Larry 
pulled  up  a  chair,  wondering  in  his  heart  what  these  old  boys 
wanted  with  a  fire  this  lovely  afternoon,  and  delivered  himself 
to  the  old  boys  and  to  conversation.  This,  naturally,  set 
with  a  single  movement  towards  the  event  of  the  morning. 
'*  A  real  likely  Httle  mare,  and  shaping  well,  I'm  told,"  says 
Dick,  "  and  by  the  bye,  Larry,  that's  a  dev'lish  nice  horse  of 
vours  that  Christian  came  back  on.  Where  did  you  get 
him  ?  " 

These  hunting  men  were  incorrigible,  the  Doctor  thought, 
seeing  the  Carmody  question  in  danger  of  being  side-tracked. 

"  Things  have  come  to  a  funny  way  in  this  country,"  he 
observed,  "  when  a  fellow  will  deliberately  chance  killing  a 
young  lady,  rather  than  let  her  ride  over  his  land — and  she 
having  a  right  to  ride  over  it  into  the  bargain  !  " 

It  needed  but  little  to  start  Major  Talbot-Lowry  again  on 
the  topic  that  had  occupied  him  unceasingly  since  Christian's 
return  that  morning.  Beginning  with  the  burning  of  the 
Derrylugga  gorse  covert,  and  moving  on  through  threatening 
letters,  and  rents  deliberately  withheld,  he  lashed  himself 
into  one  of  the  quick  furies  that  Larry  remembered  well. 
What  Larry  was  less  prepared  for  than  was  his  friend,  Dr. 


i88  MOUNT   MUSIC 

Mangan,  was  the  sudden  turn  that  the  storm  took  in  his 
direction. 

"  The  blackguards  think  they  can  frighten  me  into  seUing 
on  their  own  terms  !  "  shouted  Dick,  "  and  that  damned 
priest  of  theirs — I  beg  your  pardon,  Mangan,  but  the  fellow 
doesn't  behave  like  a  clergyman,  and  it's  impossible  to  think 
of  him  as  one — is  backing  them  up,  and  I  may  say  " — here 
it  was  that  the  heart  of  the  storm  was  revealed — "  I  may  say 
that  I'm  very  little  obliged  to  your  son,  or  to  his  principal 
here,  for  the  part  they  have  played  in  the  affair  !  That  was 
the  beginning  of  the  whole  thing  !  "  He  turned  fiercely 
upon  Larn/,  his  tenor  voice  pitched  on  a  higher  key.  "  How 
could  I,  with  my  property  loaded  with  charges,  that  were  no 
fault  of  mine,  sell  at  the  price  you  could  afford  to  take  ? 
Look  at  the  price  that  fellow — what's  his  damned  name  ? — 
Brady,  got  for  his  farm,  for  the  tenant-right  alone,  mind  you  ! 
Forty  years'  purchase  !  And  I'm  offered  seventeen  for  the 
fee  simple  !  " 

Dick  was  standing  up  on  the  hearthrug,  towering  over  the 
Doctor  and  Larry  in  their  low  chairs.  Larry  noticed  how 
thin  he  had  become,  and  how  the  well-cut  grey  clothes, 
that  he  always  wore,  hung  loosely  on  his  shrunken  figure. 
"  You're  a  young  fellow  now,  Larry  ;  wait  till  you've  been 
for  thirty  years  doing  your  best  for  your  property  and  your 
countr}%  and  getting  no  thanks  !  Thanks  !  "  Dick  gave  a 
brief  and  furious  laugh.  'T've  kept  the  hounds  for  them. 
I've  slaved  on  the  Bench  and  on  Grand  Juries.  I've  got  them 
roads  and  railways,  and  God  knows  what  else — whatever  they 
wanted — I've  sat  at  the  Board  of  Guardians,  and  done  my 
best  to  keep  down  the  rates,  till  they  kicked  me  out  to  make 
room  for  men  who  would  sell  their  souls  for  a  sixpence, 
and  made  their  living  out  of  bribes  !  " 

"  Oh,  come,  come.  Major,  it's  not  so  bad  as  all  that  !  "  said 
the  Big  Doctor,  soothingly,  as  Dick  stopped,  panting  for 
breath.     "  Don't  mind  it  now  !  " 

"  But  I  must  mind  it  !  '*  shouted  Dick.  "  When  I  think 
of  how  I've  been  treated,  and  plenty  more  like  me,  loyal  men 
who  run  straight  and  do  their  best,  I  declare  to  God  I  feel 
I  don't  know  which  I  hate  worst,  the  English  Government, 
that  pitches  its  friends  overboard  to  save  its  own  skin,  or  my 


MOUNT    MUSIC  189 

own  countrymen,  that  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word 
gratitude  !  " 

He  turned  again  upon  Larry  :  **  And  upon  my  word  and 
honour,  Larry,  I  didn't  think  that  your  father's  son  would 
have  been  tarred  with  that  brush,  anyhow  !  " 

*'  Now,  Major/'  broke  in  Dr.  Mangan,  again,  "  you  know  we 
agreed  that  there  was  no  use  in  attaching  too  much  importance 
to  that  transaction.  Barty  and  Larry  here  were  in  a 
very  difficuh  position,  and  even  though  you  and  I  might  not 
have  approved  entirely  of  their  action " 

"  But,  Doctor,"  interrupted  Larry,  bewildered,  and  dis- 
mayed, '*  You — I  thought  you  had  advised  Barty — " 

The  Big  Doctor  frowned  at  him,  and  winked  too,  while  he 
laid  his  huge  white  hand  on  his  watch-pocket,  tapping  with 
his  middle  finger  on  the  spot  which,  as  he  knew,  the  average 
layman  dedicated  to  the  heart.  He  trusted  to  Larry's  quick- 
ness, and  did  not  trust  in  vain. 

**  A  sort  of  heart  attack,"  Aunt  Freddy  had  said. 

**  I'm  most  frightfully  sorry.  Cousin  Dick,"  Larry  began, 
hurriedly,  before  a  worse  thing  happened.  "  Somehow, 
I  never  thought — you  see  I  was  out  of  the  country — it  seemed 

to  me  that "  he  was  going  to  repeat  those  comforting 

sedatives  about  leaving  the  man  at  the  helm  to  bark  for  you — 
(Heavens  !  He  had  been  on  the  point  of  saying  that !  Was 
he  going  to  laugh  ?) — but  he  couldn't  give  Barty  away.  He 
rushed  into  apology,  regret,  abuse  of  his  own  ignorance, 
and  imbecility,  and  the  Big  Doctor,  at  each  pause  in  the 
penitence,  poured  a  little  oil  and  wine  into  the  wounds  for 
which  Larry  and  the  Carmodys  were  jointly  reponsible, 
and  Dick's  anger,  like  the  red  that  had  flared  to  his  face, 
fell  Hke  a  spent  flame. 

**  Say  no  more,  boy,  say  no  more,"  he  said,  dropping 
into  the  chair  from  which  he  had  leaped  in  the  course  of  his 
apologia  pro  vita  sua  ;  "  I  daresay  you  knew  no  better — any- 
how, you  didn't  mean  to  do  me  a  bad  turn " 

Larry  took  his  hand.  "  You  know  that.  Cousin  Dick," 
he  said,  in  profound  distress.  "  Of  all  people  in  the  world 
— the  very  last.     If  there  was  anything  I  could  do  now " 

"  Well  now,  I'll  tell  you  what  you  could  do  !  "  cut  in  Dr. 
Mangan,  jovially,  "  you  could  tell  our  friend  Evans  to  bring 
in  the  Major's  tumbler  of  hot  milk  and  whisky,  and  to  look 


190  MOUNT    MUSIC 

sharp  about  it  too  !    I  ordered  he  was  to  have  it  at  six  o'clock — " 
He  looked  hard  at  Larry,  who  realised  that  his  disturbing 
presence  was  to  be  removed,  and  forthwith  removed  it. 

He  delivered  his  message,  and  strayed  back  to  the  big, 
empty  hall.  A  sense  of  aloofness,  of  having  no  place  nor 
part  in  this  well-remembered  house,  was  on  him.  None  of 
them  wanted  him  ;  he  could  see  that  easily  enough,  and  he 
had  done  Cousin  Dick  a  bad  turn.  He  had  said  so.  If  it 
came  to  that,  he  supposed  he  had  done  Christian  a  bad  turn, 
too — Christian  and  Cousin  Dick,  the  only  two  of  the  whole 
crowd  who  had  been  really  glad  to  see  him.  He  thought  of 
her  face  as  she  came  riding  through  the  dusky  wood  to  meet 
him.  **  The  dawn  was  in  it  !"  he  said  to  himself ;  again  he 
saw  it,  lit  with  the  light  that  the  hunt  had  kindled  ;  and  then 
he  thought  of  her  stricken  eyes,  as  she  looked  from  one  man 
to  another,  asking  for  the  hope  that  they  had  to  refuse 
her.  It  had  been  all  his  fault,  or — here  the  inner  apologist, 
that  is  always  quick  to  console,  interposed — not  quite 
exactly  his  fault.  How  was  he  to  have  known  .''  A 
remembrance  of  Cousin  Dick's  undeciphcrcd  letters  came 
to  him  ;  even  the  inner  apologist  hung  his  head.  In  any 
case — Larry's  active  mind  resumed  its  deliberations — it 
was  quite  clearly  his  business  to  find  Christian  and  to 
explain  to  her,  as  far  as  was  possible,  how  things  stood. 

He  left  the  house.  A  garden-boy  had  seen  Christian 
**  going  west  the  avenue  "  ;  Larry  collected  Scandal  and 
Steersman  from  the  ash-pit,  and  followed  her  *'  west  the 
avenue."  He  walked  slowly,  noting  how  neglected  was  the 
general  aspect,  how  badly  the  avenue  was  in  need  of  gravel, 
remembering  how  in  the  old  days,  the  bands  of  slingcrs  had 
never  failed  of  ammunition,  wondering  if  the  Major  were 
really  as  hard  up  as  he  thought  he  was  ;  wondering  if  they  had 
all  turned  against  him,  and  if  they  would  set  Christian  against 
him  too.  He  came  to  the  turn  near  the  river  that  led  to  the 
stepping  stones,  and  stood,  in  deepening  depression,  waiting, 
in  the  hope  that  she  might  come.  It  was  seven  o'clock, 
the  sun  was  setting,  the*  sky  was  warming  to  its  last  loveliness 
©f  rose  and  amber,  and  amethyst,  colours  with  names  almost 
as  beautiful  as  themselves.  The  long  stretches  of  grass  on 
either  side  of  the  avenue  were  a  fierce  green,  the  brakes  of 
bracken  were  burning  orange,  the  long  shadows  of  the  trees 


MOUNT   MUSIC  191 

that  fell  across  the  roadway  were  purple.  The  grove  of  yew 
trees,  that  hid  the  course  of  the  river  from  him,  had  the  sharp- 
ness of  a  silhouette  cut  out  of  dark  velvet. 

"  Not  really  black,"  Larry  told  himself,  screwing  up  his 
eyes.  He  moved  on  to  the  grass,  and  kneeling  framed  with 
his  hands  as  much  as  seemed  good  to  him.  In  a  moment, 
in  the  intoxication  of  beauty,  he  had  forgotten  his  troubles  ; 
Cousin  Dick,  singing  the  swan-song  of  the  Irish  landlords  ; 
Dr.  Mangan,^  and  his  bewildering  change  of  front  ;  even 
Christian,  and  her  views  as  to  his  responsibility  for  the  tragedy 
of  the  morning,  stood  aside  to  make  way  for  the  absorbing 
problems  of  colour  and  composition. 

The  hound  puppies  strolled  on,  side  by  side,  heads  up,  and 
high-held  sterns,  steering  for  nowhere  in  particular,  oblivious 
as  Larry  of  all  save  the  moment  as  it  passed.  A  rush  of  rooks 
came  like  a  tide  across  the  sky  ;  they  flew  so  low  that  the  drive 
and  rustle  of  their  wings  scared  the  puppies  and  startled 
Larry.  He  stood  up  and  watched  the  multitudinous  host 
swing  westward  to  his  own  woods,  and  just  then,  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  ahead,  at  the  turn  where  the  avenue  plunged 
into  the  velvet  gloom  of  the  yew-trees,  he  saw  Christian 
coming  towards  him,  alone,  save  for  a  retinue  of  dogs. 

If  that  old  saying  (already  quoted  with  reference  to  Dick 
Talbot-Lowry)  be  true,  when  it  asserts  that  "  wise  men  hve 
in  the  present,  for  its  bounty  suffices  them,"  then  was  Larr>' 
Coppingcr,  Hke  his  cousin,  indeed  a  wise  man.  Remorse, 
anxiety,  the  wonder  of  the  sunset,  were  swept  from  his  mind* 
and  Christian  filled  it  like  a  flood.  She  looked  very  tiredj 
and  he  told  her  so,  eyeing  her  so  closely  that  she  turned  her 
face  from  him. 

'*  I  won't  be  stared  at  and  scolded  !  Why  shouldn't  I 
be  tired  if  I  like  .?  " 

"If  it  were  only  tiredness "  said   Larry,  with  more 

tenderness  in  his  voice  than  he  knew.  *'  Christian,  they've 
been  telhng  me  that  it  was  my  fault— the  rows  with  the  tenants, 
and  that  devil  coming  at  you  this  mornins:— and — and  everv- 
thing  !  "  to  J' 

He  could  not  speak  directly  of  Nancy's  death  ;  he  knew 
what  Christian  felt  for  her  horses  and  dogs.  "I've  been 
looking  for  you  everywhere.     I  wanted  to  try  and  tell  you 


192  MOUNT   MUSIC 

what  I  felt — but  since  I've  seen  your  father  and  old  Mangan, 
I  feel  too  abject  even  to  dare  to  say  I'm  sorry " 

**  Why  should  they  think  it  was  your  fault  ?  It  was  my 
own  fault.  I  ought  to  have  gone  back  when  Kearney  warned 
me " 

"  They  meant  the  whole  show.  Beginning  with  Barty's 
selling  to  my  tenants,  and  then  your  father's  people  making 
trouble,  and  the  Carmodys  burning  the  covert,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it  !  They're  quite  right  !  It's  all  my  rotten  fault  ! 
Christian,  I'm  going  back  to  France  !  I  can't  face  you  after 
what  I've  brought  on  you  !  " 

In  the  bad  moments  of  life,  when  the  bare  and  shivering 
soul  stands  defenceless,  waiting  for  evil  tidings,  or  nerving 
itself  to  endure  condolence.  Christian  had  ever  a  gentle 
touch  ;  and  she  knew  too,  when  it  comforted  wrong-doers 
to  be  laughed  at. 

**  Oh,  Larry  !  And  you  pretended  you  wanted  to  paint 
my  picture  !  "  she  said,  looking  at  his  miserable  face  with 
eyes  that  shone  as  the  Pool  of  Siloam  might  have  shone  after 
the  Angel  had  troubled  it  :  there  were  tears  in  them,  but 
there  was  healing,  too. 

Larry  took  her  hand  and  held  it  tight. 

*'  You  don't  mean  it — how  could  you  bear  to  look  at  me  ?  " 

"  But  I  shan't  look  at  you  !  You  will  have  to  look  at  me 
— that  is,  if  you  can  bear  it  !  You  must  try  and  brace  your- 
self to  the  effort  !  " 

This,  it  may  be  admitted,  was  provocation  on  Christian's 
part,  but,  as  she  told  herself  afterwards,  desperate  measures 
were  necessary,  or  they  would  both  have  burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

The  resolution  to  return  to  France,  announced,  as  has  been 
set  forth,  by  Mr.  St,  Lawrence  Coppfnger,  was  not  adhered  to. 
In  the  first  place,  there  was  Barty  Mangan  and  the  various 
affairs  that  he  represented  ;  in  the  second  place,  there  was 
the  portrait  ;  in  the  third  place — which  might  as  well,  if 
not  better,  have  come  first — the  resolve  had  expired,  hke  the 
flame  of  a  damp  match,  in  the  effort  that  gave  it  birth. 

Aunt  Freddy  welcomed  the  suggestion  of  the  portrait  with 
enthusiasm.  She  had  had  four  years  of  peace,  "  careing  " 
Coppinger's  Court  for  the  reigning  Coppinger  ;  to  '*  care  " 
the  reigning  Coppinger  himself,  was,  she  felt,  a  far  less 
peaceful  undertaking.  She  agreed  entirely  with  the  well- 
worn  adage  relative  to  idle  hands,  and  had  no  illusions 
as  to  her  own  capacity  to  offer  alternative  attractions. 

"  I  felt,"  she  remarked  to  Lady  Isabel,  "  exactly  as  if  some- 
one had  deposited  a  half-broken  young  horse  in  the  drawing- 
room  ^  and  had  told  me  to  exercise  it  !  My  dear.  Christian's 
portrait  is  a  Godsend  !  But  I  may  tell  you,  in  strict  con- 
fidence, that,  so  far,  it's  far  too  clever  for  an  ignoramus  like 
me  to  make  head  or  tail  of  it  !  " 

"  It  certainly  fills  their  mornings  very  thoroughly,"  re- 
sponded Lady  Isabel,  rather  dubiously  ;  *'  Christian  vanishes 
from  breakfast  time  till  lunch.  I  suppose  you  see  more  of 
them  ?  " 

Aunt  Freddy's  reply  was  less  distinct  and  definite  than 
was  usual  with  her.  Oh,  well — occasionally — yes,  generally 
— at  least,  always  sometimes — he  was  painting  her  in  the 
garden,  on  that  seat  by  the  yew  hedge — so  sheltered  and  sunny, 

N  193 


194  MOUNT    MUSIC 

and  the  weather  was  so  perfect  ;  she  was  working  in  the 
garden  herself  every  morning.  Thus  did  the  righteous 
Frederica  wriggle  and  prevaricate,  causing  Lady  Isabel  to 
assume  that  the  full  rigours  of  chaperonage  were  complied 
with,  while  to  herself,  Aunt  Freddy  thought  that  it  would  be 
perfectly  ideal.  But  what  "  it  "  was,  she  did  not  particularise 
to  anyone. 

Mr.  St.  Lawrence  Coppinger  was  not  a  great  artist,  but  it 
had  been  conceded  to  him,  even  in  the  studio,  that  he  had 
pretty  colour  (which  was  quite  without  reference  to  his  own 
complexion)  and  a  knack  of  catching  a  likeness.  Added  to 
these  gifts  he  possessed  a  third,  in  being  able  to  talk  without 
hindering  the  activities  of  his  brush.  They  talked  a  great 
deal  to  each  other  during  those  long,  delightful  mornings  in 
the  sunny  corner  by  the  yew-hedge  ;  idle,  intimate  talk, 
that  wandered  back  to  the  days  of  the  Companions  of  Finn, 
and  on,  through  stirring  tales  of  the  Quartier  Latin  into  the 
future,  and  what  it  was  to  hold  for  them.  Larry  knew  what 
his  future  must  hold  if  it  was  to  satisfy  him.  Since  the 
moment  when  "  Love's  sickness  "  had  laid  hold  of  him 
(the  same  as  a  person  would  get  a  stitch  leaning  over  a  churn) 
he  had  known  it.  While  he  painted  her,  staring  deep  and 
hard,  appraising,  carefully,  with  his  outer  soul,  the  curve  of 
her  cheek,  the  delicate  drawing  of  her  small  ear,  the  tender 
droop  of  her  dark  eyelashes,  all  the  subtle  values  of  light  and 
shade,  all  the  problem  of  inherent  colour,  and  of  the  colour 
that  was  lent  by  the  sky  and  the  green  things  round  her, 
his  inner  soul  was  repeating  the  old  saying  :  "I  love  my 
eyes  for  looking  at  you  !  " 

Sometimes  he  thought  he  would  stand  it  no  longer,  he 
would  throw  down  his  palette  and  his  brushes,  and  let  the 
portrait  go  to  blazes,  and  kneel  at  her  feet,  telling  her,  over 
and  over  again,  that  he  loved  her,  until  she  would  have  to 
believe  him.  Yet,  for  there  is  something  inhuman  about  the 
artist,  he  refrained.  The  portrait  was  going  so  well — the 
best  head  he  had  ever  done — out  of  sight  better  than  anything 
he  had  done  at  the  studio  (what  wouldn't  he  give  to  have  a 
lesson  on  it  from  old  Chose  !).  He  wouldn't  break  the 
spell  of  successful  work  until  he  could  carry  the  picture  no 
farther.  Then,  he  thought  to  himself,  oh  then,  he  would  be 
strong  to  speak  ! 


MOUNT   MUSIC  I9S 

And,  did  he  but  know  it,  there  was  no  need  to  speak  ; 
not  any  need  at  all.  For  Christian  knew.  Not  enough  has  been 
said  about  her  if  it  has  not  been  made  clear  that,  for  her 
spirit,  the  barriers  and  coverings  that  other  spirits  take  to  them- 
selves wherewith  to  build  hiding-places  and  shelters  were  of 
little  avail.  Motives  and  tendencies,  the  hidden  forces 
that  underlie  action,  were  perceptible  to  her  as  are  to  the 
water-diviner  the  secret  waters  that  bend  and  twist  his  hazel 
rod.  Well  she  knew  that  Larry  loved  her  ;  he  was  not  the 
first  in  whom  she  had  divined  it,  but  he  was  the  first  whose 
heart,  crying  to  her,  voicelessly,  had  wakened  the  answering 
chime  in  hers  ;  the  first,  she  said  to  herself,  and  the  last. 
She  wondered,  sometimes,  if  he  knew  ;  it  seemed  incredible 
that  he  could  be  with  her,  watching  her,  studying  her  least 
look,  and  not  know.  Yet,  she  loved  him  for  not  knowing, 
for  his  boyishness,  his  babyishness,  his  simplicity.  She 
wondered  if  she  were  a  fairy-woman,  who  by  her  arts  had 
beguiled  a  mortal.  She  had  met  an  extraordinary  woman 
once,  in  London,  where  anyone,  however  extraordinary,  is 
possible,  and  this  being,  so  she  told  Larry,  had  gazed  at  her, 
raptly,  had  then  assured  her  that  she  saw  her  aura  (blue 
shot  with  gold)  and  had  told  her  that  she  had  a  very  aged 
soul. 

"  I  felt  as  if  I  were  an  old  boot  !  "  said  Christian. 

**  Old  idiot  herself  !  "  Larry  said  hotly  ;  ''  what  else  did 
she  pretend  to  know  about  you  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  had  met  me  before,  in  a  previous  incarnation. 
She  couldn't  believe  that  I  didn't  remember  her.  But  I 
couldn't." 

**  I'm  glad  you  couldn't,"  said  Larry,  still  angry.  **  I 
won't  have  you  remembering  lives  that  I  wasn't  in  !  Any- 
how, I  don't  believe  they  were  half  as  good  as  this  one.  I 
call  this  a  thundering  good  hfe.  /  don't  want  to  have  been 
Juhus  Caesar  or  Queen  Anne." 

**  Oh,  I  daresay  you  weren't,"  said  Christian,  consohngly  ; 
"  you  don't  remind  me  of  either  of  them.  What  would  be 
more  to  the  point  would  be  to  know  what  you  were  going  to 
be.     In  this  hfe,  I  mean," 

**  Oh,  a  painter  first,"  said  Larry,  responding  with  alacrity, 
as  do  most  people,  to  the  stimulus  of  discussing  himself  ; 
**  but  not  exclusively.     I  shouldn't  mind  having  the  hounds 


196  MOUNT   MUSIC 

for  a  bit,  and  I  should  like  to  travel — the  gorgeous  East, 
you  know — that  sort  of  thing.  And  I  must  say,"  he  hesitated, 
"I'm  rather  keen  to  have  a  shot  at  politics." 

He  put  down  his  palette  and  brushes  and  began  to  roll  a 
cigarette,  while  he  walked  backwards  away  from  his  easel, 
staring  alternately  at  his  canvas  and  his  model. 

**  Have  you  forgotten  that  I'm  the  prospective  candidate 
for  this  constituency  ?  The  Home  Rule  ticket,  you  know  !  " 
He  looked  at  his  audience  with  a  touch  of  defiance  ;  *'  I 
don't  loiow  what  you  may  think — my  notion  is " 

The  prospective  candidate  launched  forth  into  a  statement 
of  his  notions  ;  what,  precisely,  they  were,  is  a  matter  that 
may  here  be  omitted.  The  kaleidoscope  of  Irish  politics 
has  made  many  new  patterns  since  Larry  outlined  his  views 
for  Christian,  and  the  pattern  of  1907  interests  us  no  more. 
The  affinity  that  exists  between  politics  and  eggs  is  not  limited 
to  the  function  of  the  latter  in  emphasising  criticism  of  the 
former  ;  it  also  extends  to  individual  characteristics.  The 
morning  newspaper  and  the  morning  egg  should  be  equally 
recent.  Larry's  political  notions,  when  he  stated  them, 
had  at  least  the  merit  of  freshness,  and  it  shall  be  left  to 
them. 

Christian,  listening  to  his  ambitions,  felt  herself  older  than 
ever. 

**  I  think  I  should  be  a  painter  all  the  time,  and  let  Bill 
keep  the  hounds  for  me,"  she  said,  indulgently,  *'  and  I 
certainly  should  not  play  with  politics — I'm  certain  you'd 
hate  them." 

"  Well,  but  I'm  pledged,  you  know  !  I'm  absolutely  in 
honour  bound  to  play  up  if  I'm  wanted " 

"  Whether  you  know  the  game  or  no  }  "  said  Christian, 
mockingly.  "  Very  sporting  !  I'm  not  a  Home  Ruler,  as 
it  happens.  I've  no  breadth  of  outlook  !  /  haven't  been  in 
France  for  four  years  !  " 

"  You're  a  reactionary  !  "  declared  Larry  ;  "  I  tell  you 
Self- Government  is  in  the  air  !  " 

With  all  her  suppleness  of  mind.  Christian  had  in  her 
something  of  the  inbred  obstinacy  of  fidelity  that  often  goes 
with  long  descent.     Her  colour  rose. 

"  We  have  always  stood  for  the  King  !  "  she  said,  holding 


MOUNT    MUSIC  197 

up  her  head,  and  looking  past  Larry  to  the  high,  sailing  clouds. 

Larry  began  to  laugh. 

**  Christian  !  It's  awfully  becoming  to  you  to  talk  politics  ! 
Keep  quite  quiet  and  I'll  make  a  study  of  you  as  Britannia 
— or  Joan  of  Arc " 

It  was  characteristic  of  these  young  people,  that  in  the  heat 
of  political  argument  they  joined  battle  as  freely  as  if  no 
other  point  of  contact  existed  for  them.  This  it  is  to  be  bom 
and  bred  in  Ireland,  where  people  live  their  opinions,  and 
everyone  is  a  patriot  with  a  different  point  of  view%  and  politics 
are  a  hereditary  disease,  blatant  as  a  port-wine  mark,  and 
persistent  as  a  family  nose. 

Miss  Frederica,  with  a  guilty  remembrance  of  Lady 
Isabel's  enquiries,  had  established  her  weeding  apparatus 
at  a  bed  near  the  yew-hedge.  She  heard  the  voices  raised  in 
discussion,  and,  catching  words  here  and  there,  felt  that  if 
these  were  the  topics  that  occupied  her  charges,  Isabel  need 
not  have  inflicted  upon  her  the  abominable  nuisance  of 
poking  in  her  nose  where  it  was  not  wanted.  Thus  did  Miss 
Coppinger  summarise  the  duties  of  a  chaperon  ;  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  she  had  never  been  broken  to  the 
work,  and  in  any  case  she  had  been  out  of  harness  for  four 
years. 

The  luncheon  gong  sounded  to  her  across  the  Michaelmas 
daisies,  and  the  tall  scarlet  lobehas,  and  the  gorgeous  dahlias 
of  the  September  garden  ;  she  gathered  her  tools  together 
and  projected  a  shriek  in  the  direction  of  the  yew  hedge. 

"  Children  !     Lunch  !  " 

As,  dizzy  with  stooping,  she  slowly  reared  herself  to  her 
full  height,  she  saw  a  black,  moving  blur  on  the  drive  beyond 
the  garden.  She  rubbed  her  eyes  ;  the  blur  defined  itself 
as  a  man  in  priestly  black.  Not  Mr.  Fetherston,  as  she  had 
first  believed,  but  Father  Sweeny. 

"  A  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing  '  "  thought  Frederica,  using,  as 
was  her  wont,  the  well-worn  phrase  with  guileless  zest. 
She  held  that  although  it  might  not,  primarily,  have  been 
intended  to  describe  the  Roman  Catholic  Priesthood,  its 
application  in  a  later  age  was  obvious. 

With  a  cautious  eye  on  the  wolf,  she  approached  the  yew 
hedge. 


198  MOUNT   MUSIC 

**  Larry  !  Father  Sweeny's  at  the  hall  door.  You  must 
ask  him  in  to  lunch  !  " 

To  herself  she  thought  :  **  He's  Larry's  affair,  thank 
goodness  !      And  I'll  see  that  my  young  man  does  his  duty  !  " 

When  Frederica  spoke  of,  or  to,  her  nephew,  as  '*  my  young 
man,"  it  was  generally  in  connection  with  what  she  felt  to 
be  his  duty,  and  felt  also  that  it  was  her  duty  to  see  that  his 
was  not  shirked. 

Father  Tim  Sweeny,  at  lunch,  at  the  house  of  his  chief 
parishioner,  was  a  very  different  being  from  the  damaged  and 
ferocious  bull  in  hospital.  Conscious  of  his  priestly  dignity 
and  of  the  need  of  supporting  it,  but  shaken  by  the  minor 
stresses  of  the  situation,  the  senseless  multiplicity  of  forks  and 
spoons,  the  bewildering  restrictions  by  which  he  felt  himself 
to  be  webbed  about,  hampered,  mastered.  Father  Tim  w^as  as 
a  wild  bull  in  a  net,  and  was  even  pathetic  in  his  unavailing 
efforts  to  prove  himself  equal  to  his  surroundings.  He 
cleared  his  throat  at  intervals,  with  an  authority  that  seemed 
to  prelude  something  more  epoch-making  than  an  assent 
to  one  of  Frederica's  industrious  platitudes  ;  he  snuffled  and 
fidgeted,  eating  scarcely  at  all,  and  repelling  the  reverential 
assiduities  of  the  servants  with  shattering  abruptness. 

"  Christian  saved  the  situation,"  Frederica  said,  in  sub- 
sequent conversation  with  the  Reverend  Charles  Fetherston  ; 
"  she  absolutely  *  charmed  him  to  a  smile.'  She  said  after- 
wards that  the  smile  made  her  think  of  a  Druidic  stone  circle, 
sHghtly  imperfect  from  age  !  She  always  thinks  of  absurd 
things  ;  but  I  was  grateful  to  her  !  She  has  an  amazing 
gift  for  setting  people  at  their  ease." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  our  respected  friend  might  not  be 
more  tolerable  when  he  was  not  at  his  ease  !"  said  the  Reverend 
Charles. 

"  Larry  simply  sulked,"  continued  Miss  Coppinger ; 
"  Tm  afraid  Paris  life  does  not  inculcate  much  respect  for 
rehgion." 

"  Very  possibly  !  "  said  the  Reverend  Charles,  non-commit- 
tally,  "  I  feel  for  poor  Sweeny  !  He  knows  now  what 
Purgatory  is  like  !  " 

"  I  assure  you  I  w^as  as  civil  as  I  knew  how  to  be,"  asserted 
Frederica. 


MOUNT    MUSIC  199 

**rm  sure  you  were  !"  said  the  Reverend  Charles,  stuffing  a 
pipe  as  he  spoke,  and  sniggering  into  the  bowl. 

Miss  Coppinger  was  justified  in  believing  that  Christian 
had  been  a  success  with  Father  Sweeny. 

**  I  declare  I  could  like  that  gerr'l,  Christian  Lowry,"  he 
said  to  Father  Greer  *'  She's  a  good  gerr'l  enough. 
Decent  '  Civil  !  "  Each  adjective  of  approval  was  launched 
on  a  snort  that  indicated  some  co-existing  irritation  ;  **  but 
I  have  me  own  opinion  of  young  Coppinger  !  " 

**  A  good  one  ?  "  simpered  Father  Greer. 

**  The  reverrse  !  "  said  Father  Tim,  and  at  least  four  r's 
rang  and  rolled  in  the  word. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

The  portrait  of  that  civil  and  decent  girl,  Christian  Talbot- 
Lowry,  was  finished  ;  it  had  been  conveyed  to  Mount  Music, 
and  was  there  established  on  an  easel  in  the  billiard-room. 
The  artist  and  the  model,  having  raised  and  lowered 
blinds,  and  arranged  curtains  to  their  liking,  or  as  nearly 
to  that  unattainable  ideal  as  circumstances  permitted,  were 
now  recovering  from  the  criticism  of  their  relations  on  the 
completed  work. 

The  artist  who  works  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family  has 
much  to  bear,  and,  so  the  family  consider,  much  to  learn. 
Neither  in  endurance,  n^r  in  the  docile  assimilation  of  instruc- 
tion, had  Mr.  Coppinger  been  conspicuously  successful, 
and  his  model,  on  whom  had  rested  the  weighty  responsibility 
of  keeping  the  peace,  or,  at  least,  of  averting  open  warfare 
between  the  painter  and  the  critics,  was  now,  albeit  much 
spent  by  her  efforts,  engaged  in  binding  up  the  wounds 
inflicted  on  the  former  by  the  latter. 

"  If  you  hadn't  argued  with  them,  they  would  have  Hked 
it  very  much  ;  you  took  them  the  absolutely  wrong  way  ! 
But  they  really  are  deeply  impressed  by  it." 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  think  ;  I  know  jolly  well  it's  the 
best  thing  I've  ever  done  !  "  said  Larry,  whose  temperature 
was  still  considerably  above  normal.  "  Your  mother  is  the 
only  one  of  the  lot  with  a  soul  to  be  saved.  She  didn't 
harangue  about  what  she  doesn't  understand  !  She  said  : 
*  It  makes  me  think  of  w^hen  she  was  a  little  child,  and  used 
to  say  she  saw  things,  and  the  other  children  used  to  tease 
her  so  dreadfully  ' !  " 

"Quite  true,"  said  Christian.  "  So  they  did  !  And  now 
they're  going  for  you  !     But  you  never  teased  me,  Larry.*' 

"  Thank    God,    I    didn't  !  "    said    Larry ;     he   had    been 

200 


MOUNT    MUSIC  201 

glowering  at  his  picture,  but  as  he  spoke  he  wheeled  round, 
and   sat  down   beside   Christian  on  the   long  billiard-room 

sofa.     **  Christian,  you   know "   he   began,   stammering, 

and  hesitating  in  a  way  that  was  unlike  himself. 

Christian  interrupted  him  quickly. 

"  What  shall  you  call  the  picture  ?  I  met  Barty  Mangan 
the  other  day,  and  he  was  asking  me  all  sorts  of  questions 
about  it." 

**  I  shall  call  it  *  Christian,  dost  thou  hear  them  ?  '  "  said 
Larry,  telling  himself  that  the  moment  had  come.  "  I 
was  feeling  that  about  you  all  the  time — I  mean  when  I  was 
painting.  Christian,  you  did  hear  them,  didn't  you  ?  What 
were  they  saying  .?     Did  they  say  anything  about  me  }  " 

He  caught  her  hand  and  leaned  to  her,  compelling  her 
eyes  to  meet  his ;  "Let  her  see  into  my  heart  !  "  he  thought ; 
"  she  will  find  only  herself  there  !  " 

And  just  then  the  door  opened,  and  old  Evans  appeared. 

Larry  released  Christian's  hand,  and  went  red  with  rage 
up  to  the  roots  of  his  fair  hair.  What  he  thought  of  Evans* 
incursion  was  written  so  plainly  on  his  face,  that  Christian, 
in  that  impregnable  corner  of  her  mind  where  dwelt  her  sense 
of  humour,  felt  a  bubble  of  laughter  rise. 

**  You  asked  Mrs.  Dixon,  Miss,  to  see  the  picture,"  said 
Evans,  with  a  sour  look  at  Larry.     "  She's  outside  now.'* 

"  Come  in,  Dixie,"  called  Christian,  with  a  sensation  of 
reprieve.  Suspense  had  been  trembling  in  the  air  round 
her  ;  it  trembled  still,  but  Dixie  would  bring  respite,  if  not 
calm. 

Mrs.  Dixon,  ceremonially  clad  in  black  silk,  sailed  up  the 
long  billiard  room,  majestic  as  a  full-rigged  ship.  Time  had 
treated  her  well  ;  the  increase  of  weight  that  the  years  had 
brought  had  done  little  more  than  help  to  keep  the  wrinkles 
smoothed  ;  her  love  for  Christian,  having  survived  the 
depredations  of  the  larder  that  had  once  tried  it,  had  triumphed 
over  the  enforced  economies  that  marked  Christian's  rule 
as  housekeeper,  and  was  now  her  consolation  for  them. 
To  apprehend  the  intention  of  a  painting  is  not  given  to  all, 
and  is  a  matter  that  requires  more  experience  than  is  generally 
supposed.  To  find  a  landscape  has  been  reversed  by  the 
hand  that  wields  the  duster,  so  that  the  trees  stand  on  their 
heads,  and  the  sky  is  as  the  waters  that  are  beneath  the  firma- 


202  MOUNT   MUSIC 

ment,  is  an  experience  that  has  been  denied  to  few  painters, 
and  Mrs.  Dixon  would  have  found  many  to  sympathise 
with  her,  as  she  stood  in  silent  stupefaction  before  the  portrait. 
Larry  had  been  justified  in  his  belief  in  it,  but  for  such  as 
Mrs.  Dixon,  its  appeal  was  inappreciable.  Christian's  face 
was  in  shade,  the  brown  darkness  of  her  loosened  hair  framed 
it,  and  blended  with  the  green  darkness  of  the  yew  hedge. 
Faint  reflected  lights  from  her  white  dress,  touches  of  sun- 
light that  came  through  the  leaves  of  the  surrounding 
trees  gave  the  shadowed  face  life.  In  the  clear  stillness  of 
the  eyes,  something  had  been  caught  of  the  wonder  that  was 
latent  in  Christian's  look,  the  absorption  in  things  far  away, 
seen  inwardly,  that  in  childhood  had  set  her  in  a  place  apart  ; 
rarer  now,  but  still  there  for  those  to  see  who  could  give 
confidence  to  her  shy  spirit  to  forget  the  limitations  of  this 
world,  and  to  stray  forth  to  meet  invisible  comrades  from 
other  spheres.  Sometimes  it  has  been  given  to  an  artist 
to  rise,  not  by  his  conscious  volition,  above  his  wonted  power  ; 
to  portray  one  beloved  face  with  the  force  of  his  emotion 
rather  than  that  of  his  capacity,  transcending  the  limits  of 
his  ordinary  skill,  just  as  a  horse  will  put  forth  his  last  ounce 
of  eflPort  in  response  to  the  magnetism  of  one  rider,  and  may 
never  again  touch  the  same  level  of  achievem.ent. 

But  although  the  very  fact  that  in  this  canvas  something 
had  lifted  Land's  art  to  greatness,  made  it  for  Mrs.  Dixon 
a  mystery  and  a  bewilderment,  she  had  no  intention  of 
admitting  defeat.  After  a  moment  or  two  of  silence,  she  cast 
up  her  eyes  in  an  appeal  to  what  seemed  to  be  a  famihar 
near  the  ceiling,  and  said  in  impassioned  tones  : 

"  Well,  well,  isn't  that  lovely  .?  " 

The  familiar  apparently  confirmed  the  opinion,  for  she 
repeated,  with  a  long  sigh  :  **  Wonderful  altogether  !  I 
could  be  looking  at  it  all  day  !  "  She  turned  to  Christian 
with  profound  deference.  **  And  what  might  it  be  intended 
to  represent,  Miss  ?  '* 

Larry,  who  had  picked  up  a  cue,  and  was  knocking  the 
balls  about,  gave  a  short  and  nettled  laugh. 

**  Oh  Dixie!"  said  Christian,  sufi'ering  equally  with  artist 
and  critic,  **  don't  you  see,  it's  a  picture  of  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Dixon  took  the  blow  gallantly. 

**  Well,  wasn't  I  the  finished  fool  to  forget  my  specs  I     I 


MOUNT    MUSIC  203 

that  couldn't  see  the  harp  on  a  ha'penny  without  them  !  " 

**  Don't  worry,  Dixie,"  said  Larry,  smacking  a  ball  into  a 
pocket  ;  "I'm  not  surprised  you  didn't  recognise  it — it's 
not  half  good  enough." 

*'  Master  Larry,  my  dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Dixon,  whose 
social  perceptions  were  more  acute  than  her  artistic  ones,  "I'll 
go  bail  there  isn't  one  could  take  Miss  Christian's  picture  the 
way  you  could,  you  that  was  always  her  companion  !  "  She 
moved  away  from  the  easel,  and  murmuring  ;  "  and,  please 
God,  always  will  be  !  "  she  rustled  away  down  the  long  room. 
Mrs.  Dixon,  indomitable  Protestant  though  she  was,  did  not 
share  Evans'  opinion  of  Larry. 

Larry  threw  down  the  cue  and  opened  the  high  French 
window  into  the  garden  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

"  Christian,  for  heaven's  sake  come  out  !  I  can't  stand 
this  stinking  room  any  longer  !  I  feel  as  if  all  the  im- 
becilities that  I've  had  to  endure  this  afternoon  were 
hanging  in  a  cloud  over  the  billiard  table.  Come  up  to  the 
old  stone  on  the  hill,  and  have  some  fresh  air." 

He  stepped  out  into  the  garden,  and  Christian  followed  him, 
smiling  within  herself  at  his  impatience,  the  absurd  impatience 
that  she  loved  because  it  was  his.  It  wouldn't  be  Larry  if 
he  suffered  fools,  or  anything  else  that  he  disliked,  gladly 
or  peaceably.  The  feeling  that  she  was  immeasurably 
older  than  he  was  was  always  at  its  most  convincing  when 
his  painting  was  in  question  ;  even  she  could  not  quite 
realise  what  it  meant  to  him  to  have  rude  hands  laid  upon  the 
child  of  his  soul. 

The  garden  was  dank  and  heavy  with  overgro^\Tl,  dying 
things,  as  ill-cared-for  gardens  are  wont  to  be  at  the  end  of 
September,  but  the  tall  bush  of  sweet-scented  verbena,  that 
grew  by  the  door  in  the  south  wall,  was  still  as  green  and  sweet 
as  in  high  summer.  Christian  broke  off  some  sprays  and  drew 
them  through  her  hands  before  she  put  one  into  the  front  of 
her  shirt. 

"  Here,  Larry,"  she  said,  giving  him  one,  "  this  will  help 
you  to  forget  the  billiard  room  !  " 

Larry  gave  her  a  long  look  as  he  took  it  ;  "I  don't  altogether 
want  to  forget  it,"  he  said.  **  I  daresay  good  old  Dixie  was 
a  useful  discipline." 

Had   Christian  heard   Mrs.   Dixon's   final   aspiration  she 


204  MOUNT   MUSIC 

would  have  realised  that  with  it  Dixie  had  covered  her  failure 
as  an  art  critic. 

Outside  the  garden  was  a  wide  belt  of  fir  trees,  and  beyond 
and  above  the  trees,  stretched  the  great  hill,  Cnochan  an 
Ceoil  Sidhe,  the  Hill  of  Fairy  Music,  that  gave  its  name  to 
the  house  and  demesne.  Christian  and  Larry  passed  through 
the  shadowy  grove,  walking  side  by  side  along  the  narrow 
track,  their  footsteps  made  noiseless  by  its  thick  covering  of 
pine  needles.  It  was  dark  in  the  wood  ;  the  fir  trees  towered 
in  gloom  above  them  ;  here  and  there  in  the  deep  of  the 
branches  there  was  the  stir  of  a  wing,  as  a  pigeon  settled  to 
its  nest  ;  from  beyond  the  wood  came  a  brief,  shrill  bicker 
of  starlings  ;  all  things  beside  these  were  mute,  and  in  the 
silent  dusk,  spirit  was  sensitive  to  spirit,  and  the  air  was 
tense  with  the  unspoken  word. 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  when  they  came  out  on  to  the 
open  hillside,  and  went  on  up  the  path,  through  the  heather, 
that  led  to  the  Druid  stone  beside  the  Tober  an  Sidhe,  the 
fairies'  well.  The  mist,  golden  and  green,  that  comes  with 
an  autumn  sunset,  half  hid,  half  transfigured  the  wide  distances 
of  the  valley  of  the  Broadwater  ;  the  darkness  of  the  woods, 
blended  from  this  aspect  into  one,  of  Mount  Music  and 
Coppinger's  Court,  was  softened  by  its  veils  ;  the  far  hills 
were  transparent,  as  if  the  light  had  fused  them  to  clearest 
brown,  and  topaz,  and  opal  glass.  The  hill  side,  above  and 
beneath  them,  glowed  and  smouldered  with  the  ruby-purple 
of  heather. 

Christian  and  Larry  stood  in  the  path  beside  the  ancient 
stone  and  looked  out  over  the  valley  ;  the  vastness  and  the 
glory  of  the  great  prospect  whelmed  them  like  a  flood,  the 
sense  of  imminence  that  was  over  them  strung  their  nerves 
to  vibrating  and  held  them  silent. 

*'  My  God  !  "  sighed  Larry,  at  last,  trembling,  turning  to 
her  who  had  never  failed  to  understand  him,  "  Christian  ! 
it's    too    beautiful — the    world    is    too    big — I    can't  bear  it 

alone "     He    caught    her    arm.     "  You've   got    to    help 

me.     Oh  Christian  ! " 

Christian  turned  her  face  from  him. 

"  I  believe  I  could,"  she  said  in  a  very  low  voice. 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  truth  broke  out  of  her  soul  and  ran 
through  her,  running  from  her  soul  to  his,  like  the  flame  of 


MOUNT    MUSIC  205 

oil  spilled  upon  clear  water.     A  voice  cried  a  warning  in  her 
heart.     "  Too  late  !  "  she  answered  it  with  triumph. 
*'  Darling  !  "  said  Larry,  holding  her  close. 

gp  gP  gP  gp  Tp  * 

The  sunset 

"  bloomed  and  withered  on  the  hill 

Like   any  hill -flower  "  ; 
but  long  those  two  stood  by  the  Druid  stone,  knowing,  perhaps, 
the  best  moment  that  life  could  give  them,  facing  the  dying 
radiance  with  hearts  that  were  full  of  sunrise. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

Doctor  Francis  Mangan,  driving  his  car  at  something  even 
more  than  his  usual  high  rate  of  speed,  to  the  Parochial 
House,  a  mile  or  so  from  the  town  of  Cluhir,  what  time  the 
sun's  last  rays  were  falling  upon  the  Druid  stone  on  Cnochan 
an  Ceoil  Sidhe,  would  have  been  far  from  pleased  had  he  seen 
what  the  sun  then  saw.  On  their  knees  by  the  Tober  an 
Sidhe,  Larry  and  Christian  were  looking  into  the  tiny  cave 
in  which  the  fairy  water  rose,  and  were  giving  each  to  each 
their  plighting  word,  the  old  word  that  they  had  known 
since  they  were  children  : 

"  While  water  stands  in  Tubber  an  shee, 
My  heart  in  your  hands,  your  heart  in  me." 

and,  obser\'ing  scrupulously  the  prescribed  rite,  were  drinking 
a  mouthful  of  the  water,  each  from  the  other's  hand. 

Dr.  Mangan  would  probably  have  said  that  it  was  all 
children's  nonsense,  and  that  it  was  easier  to  break  a  promise 
than  to  keep  it,  but  it  may  be  asserted  with  tolerable  certainty 
that  he  would  not  have  been  pleased. 

He  was  a  strong  and  able  driver,  and  his  big  car  whirled  up 
Father  Greer's  neat  and  narrow  drive,  holding  undeviatingly 
the  crown  of  the  high-cambered  track,  and  stopped  dead 
at  the  front  door  of  the  Parochial  House. 

That  Spirit  of  the  Nation  to  whom  allusion  has  occasionally 
been  made  in  these  pages,  was  by  now  well  accustomed  to 
the  discouragement  that  she  had  ever  received  from  the 
two  young  lovers  whose  betrothal  she  had  been  powerless 
to  forbid.  She  had  fled  from  the  benign  fairy  influences 
of  the  Tober  an  Sidhe  ;  but  now,  full  of  hope,  she  was 
hovering  with  wide-spread  wings  over  the  Parochial  House, 

206 


MOUNT    MUSIC  207 

and,  as  its  door  was  opened  by  Father  Greer's  elderly  and  ugly 
housekeeper,  the  Spirit  folded  her  wings  and  slipped  past 
her,  as  by  a  famihar  path,  into  the  priest's  sitting-room. 

Father  Greer  was  *'  inside,"  the  elderly  and  ugly  house- 
keeper said ;  "  would  the  Doctor  sit  in  the  parlour  a  minute 
and  he'd  come  down  ?  " 

The  Doctor  '*  sat  "  as  requested,  in  the  parlour,  noting, 
as  he  had  often  noted  before,  its  arid  asceticism,  wondering 
how  any  man  could  stand  the  hfe  of  a  priest,  respecting  the 
power  that  could  enable  a  man  to  dispense  with  all  the  things 
that,  in  his  opinion — which,  by  the  way,  he  pronounced 
**  oping-en  " — made  life  worth  living. 

Father  Greer  came  imperceptibly  into  the  room  while  the 
Doctor  was  still  pondering  upon  the  hardness  of  the  black 
horsehair-covered  armchair  in  which  he  was  seated. 

**  Why,  Doctor,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure  !  I  heard 
you  were  away,"  the  priest  said,  laying  a  limp  hand  in  the 
Doctor's  big  fist. 

"  So  I  was  too.  I  was  summoned  to  a  consultation. 
That's  what  I'm  come  to  you  about.  Father.  It's  old 
Prendergast.     I'm   thinking   he    won't    last   much   longer." 

"  D'ye  mean  Daniel  .?     The  Member  ?  " 

*'  I  do." 

Father  Greer  took  his  thin  nose,  with  the  nostrils  edged 
with  red,  between  his  finger  and  thumb,  and  pinched  it 
slowly  downwards  several  times. 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  "  he  said  at  length. 

"  That's  the  point,"  said  the  Big  Doctor,  looking  at  the 
priest's  pale  and  bumpy  forehead,  and  trying  in  vain  to  catch 
his  eye.  "  You  know  that  young  Coppinger's  name  was 
sent  up  by  our  local  Committee  four  years  ago,  and  the  Party 
approved  it. 

'*  I  wonder  were  they  in  the  right  !  "  said  Father  Greer, 
still  pinching  his  nose,  and  looking  up  at  the  Doctor  over  his 
knuckles. 

**  I  don't  see  who  we  could  find  that'd  do  better,"  said  Dr. 
Mangan,  apologetically.  **  He's  well  off,  and  he  holds 
strong  Nationalist  oping-ens  ;  and  then,  of  course,  he's  a 
CathoHc." 

"  I'm  told  he  didn't  go  to  Mass  since  he  came  home  " ; 
Father  Greer  let  the  statement  fall  without  expression. 


2o8  MOUNT    MUSIC 

"  Ah  well,  he's  only  just  back  from  France.  Give  him  a 
little  time,  and  he'll  come  to  himself,"  said  the  Doctor,  still 
apologetic. 

*'  I  understand  he's  been  pamting  Miss  Christian  Talbot- 
Lowry's  portrait,"  pursued  Father  Greer,  with  limpid 
simplicity.  "  I'm  told  she's  as  pretty  a  young  girl  as  there 
is  in  this  neighbourhood." 

Whether  this  sHght  prod  of  the  mahout's  ankus  was,  or 
was  not,  intentional,  it  is  not  easy  to  say,  but  it  took  instant 
effect  upon  the  Big  Doctor. 

**  There  are  other  pretty  young  girls  in  the  neighbourhood 
besides  Christian  Dowry,"  he  said  sharply.  "  And  maybe 
prettier  !  I  don't  think  it  would  give  us  much  trouble  to 
find  one  that  Darry  Coppinger  would  be  well  satisfied  with, 
and  one  that's  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  too  !  " 

"  I  greatly  deplore  mixed  marriages,"  said  Father  Greer  ; 
permitting  his  eyes  to  meet  tho  e  of  Dr.  Mangan.  **  I 
had  hoped  that  in  the  case  of  this  young  man  beneficial 
influences  might  have  been  brought  to  bear " 

"  If  you  want  to  put  a  spoke  in  that  wheel,"  interrupted 
the  Doctor  with  eagerness,  "  you'll  support  his  nomination. 
I'll  undertake  to  say  there  won't  be  much  talk  of  mixed 
marriages  then  !  " 

Father  Greer's  small  eyes  again  rested  for  a  second  on  the 
Doctor's  broad  face,  with  its  strong,  overhanging  brows 
and  heavy  under-jaw,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions  from 
the  confident  smile  that  showed  the  white  teeth  under  the 
drooping,  black  moustache  that  had  still  scarcely  a  grey  hair 
in  it. 

**  I  was  thinking  that  might  be  what  he  was  after  !  "  thought 
Father  Greer.  "  Well,  he's  a  good  warrant  to  play  his  hand 
well,  and  more  unsuitable  things  have  occurred  before  now. 

Yet,    didn't    I    hear    something !  "     Even    in    thought 

Father  Greer  observed  a  studied  mildness  and  moderation, 
and  there  were  contingencies  which  might  remain  unformu- 
lated until  they  crystallised  into  certainty. 

"  I'll  think  it  over.  Doctor,"  he  said.  "  I'm  incHned  to 
your  view  of  the  case,  and  I  might  be  disposed  to  advocate 
the  candidature  of  your  nominee.  But," —  here  Father  Greer 
sniffed  several  timei,  indicating  that  a  humorous  aspect  of 


MOUNT    MUSIC  209 

the  case  had  occurred  to  him,  "  what  will  we  do  if  he  turns 

*  sour-face,'  as  they  say,  on  us  ?  " 

This  euphuism,  which  had  been  adopted  by  some  of  the 
more  extreme  of  the  Nationalist  party  to  indicate  members 
of  the  opposing  communion,  was  received  by  Dr.  Mangan 
as  an  apt  and  entertaining  quotation  on  the  part  of  his  clerg)^- 
man. 

**  No  fear,  no  fear  !  "  he  said,  laughing  jovially,  "  but 
if  you'll  allow  me  to  say  so,  I  think  a  good  deal  depends  on 
this  business  going  through." 

The  Spirit  of  the  Nation  smiled  also  ;  it  was  evident  to 
her  that  these  ministers  of  hers  were  conscientiously  intent 
on  doing  her  pleasure,  and,  leaving  them  with  confidence, 
she  spread  her  wide  wings  and  followed  the  broad  stream  of 
the  river  down  the  valley  in  the  direction  of  Mount  Music. 

Dr.  Mangan  drove  home  as  swiftly  and  capably  as  was  his 
wont.  It  had  been  fair-day  in  Cluhir,  and  the  people  from 
the  country  were  slowly  and  reluctantly  forsaking  the  en- 
joyments of  the  town.  Large  women  piled  voluminously 
on  small  carts,  each  with  a  conducting  Httle  boy  and  a  labour- 
ing little  donkey  somewhere  beneath  her  ;  men  in  decent 
blue  cloth  garments,  whose  innate  respectability  must  have 
suffered  acutely  from  the  erratic  conduct  of  the  limbs  inside 
them  ;  wandering  knots  of  cattle,  remotely  attended  by  the 
wearers  of  blue  cloth  aforesaid  ;  horses  carting  themselves 
and  their  owners  home,  with  entire  self-control  and  good 
sense  ;  and,  anchored  in  the  tide  of  traffic,  the  ubiquitous 
beggar-women,  their  filthy  hands  proffering  matches,  green 
apples,  bootlaces,  their  strident  tongues  mastering  the  noises 
of  the  street,  their  rapacious,  humorous  eyes  observant  of 
all  things.  All  these  did  Dr.  Mangan  encounter  and 
circumvent,  frustrating  their  apparent  determination  to 
commit  suicide  by  those  diverse  methods  of  abuse,  cajolery, 
and,  on  the  part  of  the  car,  mechanical  activity,  that  formed 
an  important  part  of  the  necessary  equipment  of  an  Irish 
motorist  of  the  earlier  time.  Nevertheless,  the  more 
intimate  portion  of  his  brain  was  deeply  engaged  in 
those  labyrinths  of  minor  provincial  intrigue  in  which  so 
many  able  intellects  spend  themselves,  for  want  of  wider 
opportunity. 

Mrs.  Mangan  was  in  the  kitchen,  where,  indeed,  she  was 


210  MOUNT   MUSIC 

not  infrequently  to  be  found,  when  the  Doctor  came  in  by 
the  back-door  from  the  yard. 

*'  I  want  you,  Annie,"  he  said,  shouldering  his  enormous  bulk 
along  the  narrow  passage,  and  treading  heavily  on  the  cat,  who, 
her  mystic  meditations  thus  painfully  interrupted,  vanished 
in  darkness,  uttering  the  baleful  cry  of  her  kind,  that  is  so 
inherently  opposed  to  the  blended  forgiveness  and  apology 
tnat  give  poignancy  to  a  dog's  reproach  for  a  similar  injury. 

**  Look  here,  Annie.  Before  I  forget  it,  I  want  you  to 
take  the  car  on  Saturday — I'll  want  it  myself  to-morrow — 
and  call  upon  Miss  Coppinger.  Barty  can  drive  you.  I 
got  a  wire  awhile  ago,  and  I  have  to  go  on  the  nine  o'clock 
to-night  to  Broadhaven.  It's  that  unfortunate  Prendergast 
the  Member.  There's  nothing  can  be  done  for  the  poor 
fellow,  but  whether  or  no,  I  must  go." 

"  They'll  not  be  satisfied  till  they  have  you  dead,  too, 
dragging  at  you  !  "  protested  Mrs.  Mangan.  "What  non- 
sense they  have,  and  you  there  only  this  morning  !  On 
earth,  what  can  you  do  more  for  him  .?  " 

**  They  think  more  of  me,  my  dear,  than  you  do  !  "  said 
the  Doctor,  cheerfully.  *'  Be  hstening,  now,  to  what  I'm 
saying.  You're  to  be  as  civil  as  be  damned  to  old  Frederica, 
and  tell  Barty  he's  to  fix  up  with  Larry  to  come  here — vvhat 
day  is  this  to-day  is  ?  Thursday  ? — Tell  him  I'll  be  in  on 
Sunday  afternoon,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  him  on  very  special 
business.     Now,  will  you  remember  that  ?  " 

He  repeated  his  commands,  as  people  will  who  have  learnt, 
as  most  Doctors  must  learn,  the  fallibility  of  the  human 
memory  and  its  infinite  powers  of  invention  and  substitution. 

Mrs.  Mangan  listened  obediently  and  promised  attention. 
Although  in  matters  to  which  she  attached  slight  importance, 
such  as  the  proportions  of  a  prescription,  her  memory  was 
liable  to  betray  her,  in  other  affairs,  it  had  the  cast-iron 
accuracy  of  the  peasant,  and  without  having  been  privileged 
with  the  Doctor's  full  confidence,  she  was  probably  deeper 
in  it  than  he  was  aware. 

While  still  these  intentions  with  regard  to  young  Mr.  St. 
Lawrence  Coppinger  were  whirling  in  the  air  above  him, 
as  a  lasso  swirls  and  circles  before  it  secures  its  victim,  that 
young  man  was,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say,  staggering  home 
under  the  weight  of  his  happiness.     After  the  sacrament  at 


MOUNT    MUSIC  2ir 

the  Tober  an  Sidhe  he  and  Christian  had  gone  from  the 
hill,  hand  in  hand,  Hke  two  children.  In  silence  they  had 
gone  through  the  dark  wood,  and  almost  in  silence  had  made 
their  mutual  farewells  in  the  fragrant  shadow  of  the  pines. 

When  the  soul  is  tuned  to  its  highest  it  cannot  find  an 
interpreter.  The  hps  can  utter  only  broken  sounds,  patheti- 
cally inadequate  to  express  emotions  that  may,  in  some  future 
sphere,  make  themselves  known  in  terms  other  than  are 
permitted  to  us.  There  is  an  inner  radiance  that  is  beyond 
thought,  that  might  conceivably  utter  itself  in  music  or  in 
colour,  but  that  can  no  more  be  translated  into  words  than 
can  the  radiance  of  the  mid-day  sun  be  more  than  indicated 
by  earthly  painters  with  earthly  pigments. 

So  it  was  with  Larry  and  Christian.  It  chances  now  and 
then  on  this  old,  and  prosaic,  and  often  tearful  earth  that 
some  kindly  spirit  leaves  the  door  of  Paradise  a  little  open, 
and  two  happy  people — though  sometimes  it  is  only  one — 
are  caught  inside  for  a  time,  and  come  out,  as  Larry  did, 
bewildered,  dazzled,  wandering  back  to  earth,  he  scarcely 
knew  how,  saying,  drunkenly,  to  himself : 

"  Good  Lord  !     She  is  so  bright  to-night  !  " 
as  the  blackbird  said,  who  was  "blowing  his  bugle  to  one  far 
bright  star." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

Old,  prosaic,  and  often  tearful,  though  this  earth  may  be, 
few  are  anxious  to  hasten  their  departure  from  it,  and  Daniel 
Prendergast,  Esq.,  M.P.,  abetted  by  the  ministrations  of  that 
able  consultant.  Dr.  Mangan,  '*  hung  on,"  as  his  friends 
put  it,  with  unexpected  tenacity  to  his  share  of  the  world. 
And,  so  far  reaching  are  the  etheric  cords  that  are  said  to 
bind  us  all  together,  Mr.  Prendergast's  grip  of  his  sorry  and 
suffering  life  bestowed  upon  Larry  and  Christian  three  days 
to  be  spent  within  the  confines  of  Paradise. 

This  may  seem  an  over-statement  when  it  is  recorded  that 
their  next  meeting  was  at  7  a.m.  at  a  cubbing  meet  of  the 
hounds,  which  occurred  on  the  morning  following  on  Larry's 
discovery  that  the  entree  to  Paradise  had  been  his  for  the 
asking  ;  it  is,  however,  no  more  than  the  truth.  Christian 
had  exacted  a  promise  from  him  that  no  word  was  to  be  said 
to  any  other  of  the  high  contracting  parties  until  Monday, 
and,  as  they  rode  in  at  the  Castle  Ire  gates,  the  matter  was 
still  under  debate. 

"  Three  days  we  must  have,  just  three,  with  this  secret 
hidden  between  us  like  a  pearl  in  an  oyster-shell  !  Larry, 
you  know  /  can  keep  a  secret  !  " 

**  And  you  think  I  can't  !  "  said  Larry,  affronted. 

"  I  don't  think,  I  know  it  !     But  you  must  try  I     Don't 

forget  I've  got  to  week-end  at  the "  she  named  people 

who  lived  in  the  next  county.  "  No  one  shall  be  told  until 
I  come  home  !  " 

This  was  when  they  were  riding  to  the  meet.  Larry  had 
brought  over  Joker,  the  bay  horse,  for  her  and  he  was  himself 

212 


MOUNT   MUSIC  213 

riding  a  small  grey  four-year-old  mare,  on  whose  education 
as  a  hunter  he  was  entering.  It  was  one  of  those  gorgeous 
mornings  of  late  September,  when  everything  is  intense  in 
colour  and  in  sentiment.  A  light  white  frost  was  melting,  in 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun,  to  a  silver  dew,  that  twinkled  on  grass 
and  bush  and  twig.  Now  and  then  a  beech  leaf,  prematurely 
gold,  came  spinning  down  in  the  still  air  ;  from  high  places 
of  heaven  a  tiny  gabble  of  music,  cold,  and  shrill,  and  sweet, 
told  of  the  songs  of  the  larks  at  those  heavenly  gates  within 
which  Larry's  and  Christian's  spirits  were  dwelling. 

"  Yes  !  "  Christian  repeated,  as  they  rode  tranquilly  along 
on  the  grass  beside  one  of  the  long  Castle  Ire  avenues,  *'  it 
shall  remain  a  secret  as  long  as  possible,  unprofaned  by  the 
vulgar  !  It's  like  this  morning  ;  the  dew's  on  it  still.  Larry, 
you've  got  to  try  !  " 

'*  Got  to  try,  have  I  ?  "  said  Larry,  beaming  at  her 
fatuously. 

The  horses  were  sidling  close  to  one  another  after  the 
manner  of  stable  companions  ;  Larry  put  his  hand  on  the 
bay  horse's  withers  and  gazed  into  Christian's  laughing  eyes, 
while  the  blue  of  the  southern  Irish  sky  uttered  its  strong, 
splendid  note  of  colour  behind  the  pale  rose  of  her  face,  and 
the  ineffable  freshness  of  the  morning  thrilled  in  him. 

"  If  you  look  at  me  like  that  in  general  society"  he  declared, 
**  I  shall  cither  give  it  away  on  the  spot — or  burst  !  Look 
here,  here's  the  measured-mile  gallop  ;  I'll  race  you  to  the 
hall  door  !  If  I  get  in  first,  I  shall  tell  everyone  we're 
engaged  !  " 

"  Done  !  "  said  Christian,  instantly  shortening  her  reins  ; 
"  but  I  back  Joker  ! " 

She  touched  Joker  with  her  heel  and  the  big  horse  sprang, 
at  the  hint,  into  a  gallop.  Quickly  as  he  started,  Rayleen, 
the  grey  mare  (whose  name,  being  interpreted,  is  Little 
Star),  being  ever  concentrated  for  instant  effort,  as  is 
the  manner  of  small  and  well-bred  four-year-olds,  was  up 
to  his  shoulder  in  a  couple  of  bounds,  even,  in  the  flame  of 
her  youth  and  enthusiasm,  she  drove  ahead  of  Joker's  ordered 
strides,  and  led  him  for  awhile.  Larry's  laugh  of  triumph, 
that  the  wind  tossed  back  to  her,  was  not  needed  to  rouse 
Christian  to  emulation.  Any  hint  of  a  race,  any  touch  of  a 
contest,  appealed  to  her  as  instantly  as  to  Rayleen,  and  she  was 


2i4  MOUNT   MUSIC 

racing  for  that  secret  that  was  like  a  pearl.  Sitting  very  still 
she  touched  Joker  again  with  her  heel  and  spoke  to  him. 
There  was  in  her  the  magnetism  that  can  fire  a  horse  to  his 
best,  by  some  mystery,  compound  of  sympathy  and  stimula- 
tion, that  has  no  outward  manifestation.  Joker's  great 
shoulders  worked  under  her  as  he  lengthened  and  quickened 
his  beautiful,  rhythmic  stride.  The  wind  of  the  pace 
whistled  in  her  ears  and  snatched  at  her  hair.  She  crammed 
her  hat  over  her  forehead,  laughing  with  the  joy  of  battle. 
She  was  level  with  Larry  now.  Now  she  was  passing  him, 
and  the  little  grey  strove  in  vain  to  hold  her  place.  Gallant 
as  she  was,  what  could  she  do  against  a  raking,  trained  galloper, 
well  over  sixteen  hands,  and  nearly  thoroughbred  } 

The  smooth  mile  of  shining  grass  was  annihilated,  wiped 
out  in  a  few  whirling  minutes.  Joker  had  but  just  fairly 
settled  down  to  go  when  the  end  of  the  race  was  at  hand. 
Had  he  been  a  shade  less  of  a  gentleman  than  he  was, 
Christian,  and  the  snaffle  in  which  she  was  riding  him,  would 
hardly  have  stopped  him,  as  did  their  joint  efforts,  on  the 
gravel  in  front  of  the  goal  that  Larry  had  given  her. 

Hunts  come,  and  hunts  go,  and  are  forgotten.  Horses^ 
the  best  and  dearest  of  them,  fade,  in  some  degree,  from 
remembrance  ;  where  are  the  snows  of  yester  year,  and  where 
the  great  gallops  that  we  rode  when  we  were  young  ?  But 
here  and  there  something  defies  the  mists  of  memory,  and 
remains,  bright  and  imperishable  as  a  diamond.  I  believe 
that  for  Christian  that  mile  of  sun  and  wind  and  speed  and 
flight,  with  her  lover  thundering  at  her  heels,  will  remain 
ever  vivid,  one  of  the  moments  that  are  of  the  incalculable 
bounty  of  Chance  ;  moments  that  earth  can  never  equal, 
nor  Heaven  better. 

The  hounds  and  staff  were  waiting  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
long  front  of  Castle  Ire,  when  Larry  and  Christian  made 
their  somewhat  sensational  entrance  upon  the  scene. 

*'  Joker  wins,  by  a  length  and  a  half,"  said  Bill  Kirby, 
judicially,  **and  a  very  pretty  race.  I  never  saw  a  prettier, 
on  any  sands,  on  any  jackasses,  on  any  Bank  Holiday  !  I 
suppose  this  is  how  people  always  fetch  up  at  meets  in  France  ? 
It's  not  come  in  in  this  benighted  country  yet." 

**  His  fault  !  "  said  Christian,  breathless  and  glowing. 
**  He  dar'd  me  !     Where  are  you  going  to  draw  ?  " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  215 

"  The  ash-pit  and  the  fowl-houses,"  replied  Bill,  picking 
up  his  reins.  **  Then  the  backstairs,  and  the  kitchenmaid's 
bedroom.  Judith  and  Mrs.  Brady  say  he's  taking  all  the 
fowl,  and  they're  going  to  lay  poison — I  don't  mean  the 
fowl " 

**  Isn't  he  bright  this  morning  ?  "  said  Judith,  looking  down 
upon  the  party  from  an  upper  window,  effectively  arrayed 
in  one  of  those  lacy  and  lazy  garments  that  invite,  while  they 
repudiate,  society.  "  No,  I'm  not  coming  out.  Too  early 
for  me.  Come  in  and  eat  something — breakfast  or  lunch, 
anything — when  you've  done  enough." 

The  hounds  moved  on  and  were  soon  busy  in  the  screens 
of  glossy  laurel  round  the  house.  Other  riders  arrived.  A 
fox  was  found,  if  not  in  the  kitchenmaid's  bedroom  in  some 
spot  of  almost  equal  intimacy,  and  the  Hunt  surged  in  and 
through  yards,  and  haggards,  outhouses,  and  gardens,  the 
hounds  over-running  all  the  complicated  surroundings  of  an 
Irish  country-house,  while  ever}^  grade  of  domestic,  forsaking 
his  or  her  lawful  occupation,  joined  in  the  chase. 

Christian  had  betaken  herself  to  a  point  on  the  avenue 
remote  from  the  fray.  A  run,  she  told  herself,  would  have 
tranquilised  her,  and  made  things  seem  more  normal,  but 
there  was  no  prospect  of  one.  **  I'll  wait  till  this  rat-hunt  is 
over,"  she  thought,  letting  Joker  stroll  across  the  park 
towards  a  little  lake,  shining  amidst  bracken  and  bushes, 
a  jewel  dropped  from  heaven.  A  couple  of  stiff-necked  swans 
floated  in  motionless  trance  upon  it  ;  black  water-hens 
flapped  in  flashing,  splashing  flight  to  safety  as  Christian 
came  near ;  a  string  of  patchwork  coloured  mandarin- 
ducks  propelled  themselves  in  jerks  towards  her,  confident 
that  any  human  being  meant  food.  Two  gigantic  turquoise 
dragon-flies  rose,  with  a  dry  crackle  of  talc-Hke  wings,  from 
a  dead  log  under  Joker's  feet  One  of  them  swung  round  the 
horse's  head,  and  Ht  on  his  shaven  neck.  It  brooded  there, 
apparently  unperceptive  of  the  difference  of  this  resting 
place  from  the  one  that  it  had  abandoned  ;  its  dull  globes 
of  eyes  looked  as  if  sight  was  the  last  purpose  for  which  they 
were  intended.  Joker  stretched  his  long  neck  to  nibble  a 
willow  twig,  and  the  blue  mystery,  rising,  remained  poised 
over  him  for  another  moment  of  meditation,  before  it  sailed 
away,  sideways,  on  its  own  obscure  occasions. 


2i6  MOUNT   MUSIC 

Christian  sat  in  the  sunshine,  and  thought  about  Larry, 
and  wondered.  She  knew  now  that  what  she  feh  for  him  was 
no  new  thing.  It  had  been  with  her  always,  not  merely 
since  the  painting  of  her  portrait,  but  always,  unacknowledged 
yet  implicit,  ever  since  that  first  day  when  he  had  rescued 
her  from  Richard.  Her  intensely  criticising,  analytic  brain 
refused  to  surrender  to  vague  emotion.  She  was  resolved 
to  understand  herself,  to  rationalise  her  overthrow.  It  was 
the  difference,  for  which  that  half-hour  of  sunset  was 
responsible,  in  the  degree  of  what  she  felt,  that  bewildered 
her.  Yesterday,  she  told  herself,  it  was  a  deep,  but  well- 
controlled  and  respectable  little  stream.  To-day  it  was  a 
flood.  "  I  must  keep  my  feet,"  she  thought ;  *'  I  must  not 
be  swept  away  !  "  The  thought  of  him  was  sometimes 
overwhelming,  like  the  fire  of  a  summer  noon  ;  sometimes 
meditative,  and  wound  about  with  memories,  like  twilight, 
and  the  song  of  the  thrush  ;  even  at  its  least,  it  had  been  the 
glow  that  lives  behind  the  northern  horizon  in  m^idsummer, 
witnessing  to  the  hidden  glory,  during  darkness,  or  the  wistful 
glimmer  of  stars.  Now,  while  the  sun  went  higher,  and  all  the 
hum  of  life  rose,  and  the  cr.'es  of  the  water-birds,  the  buzz  of 
insects  over  the  bright  lake,  became  more  insistent,  and  the 
blue  and  lovely  morning  spread  and  strengthened  round  her, 
criticism  and  analysis  failed.  She  could  only  think  of  him, 
helplessly,  saying  to  herself  what  she  had  once  heard  a 
peasant  woman  say  :  "  My  heart 'd  open  when  I  thinks  of 
him." 

Across  the  park  came  repeated  notes  from  the  horn,  the  bay- 
ing of  hounds,  and  the  screams  that  celebrate  with  orthodox 
excitement  the  death  of  a  fox.  The  rat-hunt  was  over. 
Joker  lifted  his  spare,  aristocratic  head  from  the  grass,  and 
listened,  with  a  wisp  of  dewy  green  stuff  in  his  mouth. 
Christian  looked  at  her  watch.  It  was  early  still,  not  eight 
o'clock.  A  grey  horse  and  its  rider  came  forth  from  the  dark 
grove  of  laurels.  Larry  was  looking  for  her.  She  sighed  ; 
she  did  not  know  why.  She  thought  of  the  old  Mendelssohn 
open-air  part-song  : 

"  The  talk  of  the  lovers  in  silence  dies, 
They  weep,  yet  they  know  not  why  tears  fill  their 
eyes." 


MOUNT    MUSIC  217 

The  old,  absurd  words,  that  she  had  so  often  laughed  at. 
She  laughed  again,  but  at  herself,  and  sat  still,  watching  the 
grey  mare  coming  lightly  over  the  sunny  grass  to  her. 

"  They  got  him  !  "  Larry  shouted,  as  he  came  near.  "  The 
brute  wouldn't  run  for  'em  !  Too  full  of  hen,  I  suppose  ! 
They're  going  on  now  to  the  gorse  in  the  high  paddock. 
Why  did  you  come  away  here  }  " 

*'  Because  I'm  illogical.  I  like  hunting,  and  I  hate  catching 
what  I  hunt.     Besides,  I  wanted  to  think." 

"  Rotten  habit,"  said  Larr}\  *'  I  won't  have  you  changing 
your  mind  !  " 

Christian  looked  at  him,  and  sighed  again.  He  was  on 
her  right,  and  she  took  her  hunting-crop  in  her  left  hand, 
with  the  reins,  and  stretched  out  her  right  hand  to  him. 
He  caught  it,  and  kissed  her  slender  wrist  above  the  glove. 
There  came  back  to  Christian,  with  a  rush,  the  remembrance 
of  the  May  morning  at  the  kennels  when  he  had  kissed  her 
wrist.  That  had  been  the  left  wrist.  The  kiss  had  meant 
more  to  her  than  it  had  to  him.  Now,  as  she  met  his  eyes, 
she  knew  that  she  and  he  stood  on  level  ground. 

Who  breaks  a  butterfly  upon  a  wheel  .''  Those  even, 
who  pin  it  down,  and  set  it  up  in  a  glass  case  in  the  cause  of 
science  and  for  the  edification  of  an  inquisitive  public,  are 
not  wholly  to  be  commended,  praiseworthy  though  their 
intentions  may  be.  Let  a  rule  of  silence,  therefore  be 
observed,  as  far  as  may  be.  What  this  boy  and  girl  said  to 
each  other,  is  their  secret,  not  ours. 

The  gorse  in  the  high  paddock  held  a  fox  ;  several,  in 
fact,  a  lady  having  reared  a  fine  young  family  there  without  any 
anxieties  as  to  their  support,  thanks  to  the  votive  offerings 
of  crows  and  rabbits,  obsequiously  laid  on  her  doorstep,  by  her 
best  friend,  and  her  m.ost  implacable  enemy,  Mr.William  Kirby, 
M.F.H.  In  recognition,  no  doubt,  of  these  attentions,  the 
lady  in  question  permitted  one  of  her  sons  to  afford  a  little 
harmless  pleasure  to  her  benefactor,  and  this,  having  included 
a  lively  gallop  of  some  three  miles,  ceased  in  a  plantation 
where  was  the  place  of  safety  that  had  been  indicated  to  the 
beginner,  and  ceased  appositely,  at  an  hour  that  made  a  late 
breakfast  at  Castle  Ire  a  matter  obvious,  even  imperative, 
for  those  who  were  not  prepared  to  av/ait,  in  patient  starvation, 
that  very  inferior  repast,  an  early  lunch. 


2i8  MOUNT    MUSIC 

Young  Mrs.  Kirby  had  not  lost,  with  matrimony,  the  habit 
of  having  her  own  way. 

**  No,    Christian,   you're   not   going  home.     You   haven^t 

seen  Baby,  and  he  really  looks  rather  sweet  in  his  new "  (a 

negligible  matter,  whatever  the  attire  the  formula  being 
unvaried) — "and,  besides,"  continued  young  Mrs.  Kirby, 
with  decision,  *'  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Being  talked  to  by  Judith  was  an  adequate  modem 
equivalent  for  an  interview  with  the  "  Jailer's  Daughter," 
as  a  method  of  obtaining  information. 

Christian  trembled  for  the  secret  of  the  pearl. 

"  Bill  tells  me,"  began  Judith,  after  the  late  breakfast  had 
been  disposed  of,  settling  herself  luxuriously  in  an  armchair 
in  the  round  tower-room  which  she  had  made  her  own  sitting- 
room  and  lighting  a  cigarette,  **  that  our  tenants — I  mean 
Papa's  people — are  getting  rather  nasty.  Of  course,  there  was 
that  disgraceful  business  when  your  mare  was  killed  but  I 
don't  mean  that — Bill  thinks  old  Fairfax  was  right  in  advising 
Papa  to  do  nothing  about  that — but  about  this  archaic  non- 
sense of  feudal  feeling  and  not  selling  the  property.  Of 
course  he's  bound  to  lose  by  the  sale,  but  the  longer  he  waits 
the  worse  it  gets." 

**  I  don't  think  it's  only  feudal  feeling — he  says  he  can't 
afford  to  sell,"  began  Christian. 

**  Oh,  I  know  all  that,  my  dear,"  interrupted  Judith  ; 
the  infernal  mortgagees,  and  the  damned  charges,  and  that 
blackguard  rebel,  young  Mangan,  who  cut  the  ground  from 
under  his  feet,'  and  so  on.  I've  heard  it  all  from  Papa, 
exactly  five  thousand  times.  But  the  point  is  that  there  was  a 
meeting  at  Pribawn,  with  the  priest  in  the  chair,  and  there 
were  furious  speeches,  and  they  talked  of  boycotting  Papa, 
and  some  steps  ought  to  be  taken.  It's  an  intolerable 
nuisance  being  boycotted,  if  it's  nothing  else,  and  most 
expensive.  I  was  with  the  O'Donnells  that  time  when  they 
were  boycotted — up  at  five  every  morning  to  milk  the  cows 
and  light  the  kitchen  fire,  and  having  to  get  every  earthly 
thing  by  post  from  London  !  " 

"  I'll  take  as  many  steps  as  you  like,"  said  Christian,  *'  if 
you'll  only  tell  me  where  to  take  them." 

Judith  took  her  cigarette  out  of  her  mouth,  and  blew  a  ring 


MOUNT    MUSIC  219 

of  smoke,  regarding  her  younger  sister  the  while  with  a 
shrewd  and  wary  blue  eye. 

**  I've  often  said  to  you,  my  dear  child,"  she  began,  in  a 
voice  that  seemed  intended  to  usher  in  a  change  of  subject, 
**  that  if  you  won't  take  an  interest  in  men,  they  won't  take  an 
interest  in  you." 

*'  Then  why  repeat  the  statement  ?  "  said  Christian, 
wondering  what  Judith  was  working  up  to,  and  girding  herself 
for  battle  ;   "  true  and  beautiful  though  it  is  !  " 

*'  Because,  my  dear — and  I  may  say  I  speak  as  one  having 
authority  and  not  as  the  scribes — in  my  opinion,  and  judging  by 
what  I  perceived  with  about  a  quarter  of  one  eye  at  breakfast, 
you  have  only  to  hold  up  your  little  finger,  in  a  friendly  and 
encouraging  manner,  and  our  young  friend  and  relative, 
Mr.  Coppinger,  will — I  admit  I  don't  quite  know  what  people 
do  with  little  fingers  in  these  cases,  something  aff"ection- 
ate,  no  doubt  !  " 

"  I  thought  your  authority  would  have  extended  to  little 
fingers  !  "  broke  in  Christian,  sparring  for  wind,  and  wishing 
she  were  not  facing  the  window  ;  "in  any  case,  I  fail  to  see 
what  mine,  in  this  instance,  has  to  say  to  our  being 
boycotted  }  " 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Judith,  leaning  forward,  and  speaking 
with  solemnity,  "  the  priests  won't  want  to  fall  foul  of  anyone 
with  as  much  money  as  Larry  !  " 

Christian  was  silent ;  she  had  not  anticipated  quite  so 
direct  an  intervention  in  her  personal  afi^airs  as  was  now  being 
discovered,  and  she  felt  that  her  pearl  was  melting  in  the 
fierce  solvent  of  Judith's  interest  and  curiosity. 

**  I  know  it's  a  bore  about  his  religion,  and  his  politics  are 
more  than  shaky,  but  you  know,  in  a  way,  it's  rather  lucky, 
in  view  of  the  mess  Papa's  got  everything  into,  to  have  some- 
one on  that  side,"  went  on  Judith,  who  was  far  too  practical 
to  be  influenced  by  that  mahgn  Spirit  of  the  Nation  who  had 
so  persistently  endeavoured  to  establish  herself  as  one  of  the 
family  at  Mount  Music.  "  All  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  Papa  may 
begin  to  beat  the  Protestant  drum  and  wave  the  Union  Jack  ! 
Such  nonsense  !  The  main  thing  is  that  Larry  himself  is 
quite  all  right  !  " 

"I'm  sure  he  would  be  gratified  by  your  approval  !  " 
Judith's  patronage  was  somewhat  galling  ;   Judith,  who  was 


220  MOUNT    MUSIC 

quite  pleased  with  Bill   Kirby  ! — Good,   excellent  Bill,   but 

still !     Christian's  colour  betrayed  her,  and  she  knew  it, 

and  knowing  also  the  remorseless  cross-examination  that 
the  betrayal  would  immediately  provoke,  she  decided  to 
anticipate  it. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  she  went  on,  "  he — we "  she 

hated  the  crudity  of  the  statement. 

"  You're  engaged  !  "  swooped  Judith,  with  the  speed  of  a 
hawk.     "  Excellent  girl  !  " 

Christian  found  the  commendation  offensive. 

*'  I  assure  you  it's  quite  without  either  political  or  religious 
bias  !  "  she  said  defiantly.  She  had  failed  to  keep  her  secret, 
but  she  went  down  with  her  flags  flying. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

Barty  Mangan  fulfilled  his  father's  behests,  and  on  Saturday, 
he  drove  his  mother  to  Coppinger's  Court. 

He  drove  a  motor  well  ;  not  brilliantly,  like  Larry,  because 
Barty  did  nothing  brilliantly,  but  capably  and  gently,  with 
consideration  for  donkey-carts,  with  respect  for  horses, 
with  kindness  towards  pedestrians,  even  without  animosity 
towards  cur-dogs.  The  surprising  aspect  of  the  fact  was 
that  he  should  be  able,  in  any  degree,  to  handle  a  car,  the 
control  of  energy  being  an  effort  foreign  to  his  nature.  What 
in  his  mother  was  laziness,  was  with  him  transmuted  to 
languor  ;  his  father's  vigour  and  decision  became  in  Barty 
a  sort  of  tepid  obstinacy,  and  the  Doctor's  fierce  and  fighting 
allegiance  to  his  Church  reappeared  in  his  son  as  a  peevish 
conscientiousness,  that  had  provoked  a  friend  of  the  family 
to  say  :  "  Barty's  a  dam' bad  solicitor  !  He'll  take  up  no  case 
but  what  pleases  him,  and  he'll  touch  nothing  if  he  thinks 
he'll  make  money  out  of  it  !  " 

"  Ah  !  He  was  always  a  fool  for  himself !  "  replied, 
heartily,  Barty's  great-aunt,  Mrs.  Cantwell,  to  whom  the 
comment  had  been  offered 

One  aspect  of  the  practical  affairs  of  life,  and  one  only, 
had  power  to  rouse  Barty  from  the  dreamy  passivity  which 
had  excited  Great-Aunt  Cantwell's  contempt.  Where 
Ireland  and  Irish  politics  came  into  question,  some  deep 
spring  of  sentiment  and  enthusiasm  in  him  was  touched, 
and  all  the  force  that  he  was  capable  of  became  manifest. 
All  the  strength  and  tenacity  that  w^ere  in  him  were  con- 
centrated in  the  cause  of  Nationalism ;  Ireland  was  his 
religion,  and  he  felt  himself  to  be  one  of  her  priesthood. 

221 


222 


MOUNT    MUSIC 


There  are  some  gentle  natures,  with  deep  affections,  but 
without  much  brain-power  in  whom  an  idea,  a  mental 
attitude,  and  especially  a  personal  hking  or  disliking,  is 
very  easily  implanted  ;  yet,  easily  as  it  is  introduced,  once  it 
has  taken  hold  it  can  never  be  dislodged.  The  mtellect 
has  not  energy  enough  for  reconstruction  ;  it  accepts  too 
readily,  and,  once  saturated,  the  stain  is  indelible,  because 
there  is  no  power  of  growth. 

Behold,  then,  Barty,  gentle  and  obstinate,  timid  and  an 
enthusiast,  loving,  yet  implacable,  seated  in  Larry's  studio, 
regarding  with  submissive  adoration  the  being  compact  of 
the  antithesis  of  his  quahties,  and  ready,  for  that  being's  sake, 
to  make  any  sacrifice  save  that  of  renouncing  him. 

The  being  in  question,  wholly  and  feverishly  absorbed  in 
his  own  affairs  of  the  heart,  while  bound  by  his  oath  to  say 
nothing  about  them,  brought  himself  with  difficulty  to  attend 
to  the  retrospect  of  financial  operations,  hitherto  postponed, 
but  now  insisted  upon,  by  his  man  of  business. 

"  Oh,    first-rate,    old    chap— quite    all    right— good  busi- 

jiess  ! "     With  these,  and  similar  interjections,- did   the 

employer  ratify  and  approve  of  his  agent's  transactions. 
Barty's  legal  training  abetted  his  conscientiousness,  and 
in  his  mild  and  monotonous  brogue  he  laid  before  Larry  a 
statement  of  his  money  matters  that  was  as  unsparing  in 
detail  as  it  was  accurate.  , 

"  So  now  you  see,"  he  concluded,  "I  didn't  act  without 
careful  consideration,  and  I  consulted  me  tawther,  besides 
others  of  experience  in  such  matters.  I  believe  there  are 
people  who  are  saying  we  sold  too  cheap  to  the  tenants. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  money's  good  and  safe  now  ; 
you' have  a  certain  and  secure  income,  and  you're  in  a  very 
favourable  position  in  the  eyes  of  the  people." 

Larry  pulled  himself  from  reverie  to  ejaculate  further 
general  approval  ;  then  he  rose  from  the  table,  upon  which 
Barty's  books  had  been  displayed,  and  drawing  forward  an 
easel'  on  which  was  a  framed  canvas  covered  by  some  vi\^d 
oriental  drapery,  he  arranged  it  carefully  with  regard  to  the 
light.  Then  he  caught  away  the  drapery,  stepping  back, 
quickly,  from  the  easel. 

**  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Barty?"  ^ 

Barty,  who  was  short-sighted,  stood  up  and  adjusted  his 


MOUNT    MUSIC  223 

eye-glasses,  while  he  endeavoured  to  readjust  his  ideas,  and 
to  abandon  the  realms  of  business  for  those  of  art. 

"But  you  know,  Larry,"  he  apologised,  "  I  know  nothing 
about  paintings.  You  wouldn't  know  what  tomfoc-lery  I 
might'nt "     The  ^fpology  broke  off  abruptly. 

**  Oh,  God  !  "  he  muttered,  feeling,  in  the  shock  of  meeting 
her  eyes,  as  if  a  sudden  wind  had  swept  his  mind  bare  of 
business,  of  Larry,  of  all  things  save  Christian,  **  it's  herself !  '* 

His  sallow  face  had  turned  a  dull  red.  He  moved  back  a 
step  or  two,  and  then  went  forward  again.  The  easel  was 
low,  and  Barty  was  very  tall  ;  he  went  on  his  knees,  and 
gazed,  speechless. 

Thus  might  a  devout  Russian  have  greeted  a  lost  icon, 
and  worshipped,  silently,  a  re-found  saint.  Larry,  equally 
absorbed,  as  any  painter  will  understand,  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  work,  took  no  heed  of  its  effect  upon  Barty. 

"  By  Jove  !  '*  he  murmured,  drawing  a  big  breath,  "  I 
v^ronder  if  I  did  it  !     I   don't  feel  as  if  I  had — something 

outside  me "     He  stopped  ;  he  felt  as  if  Christian  herself 

were  there  ;  he  felt  as  if  her  arms  were  round  him,  his  head 
upon  her  bosom.  He  was  giddy  with  emotion.  Scarcely 
knowing  what  he  did  he  walked  across  the  room,  and  stared 
out  of  the  window,  looking  across  his  own  woods  to  the 
woods  of  Mount  Music. 

That  morning  he  had  said  good-bye  to  her  for  three  long 
days.  She  had  met  him  at  the  old  stepping  stones  across 
the  Ownashee,  and  she  had  made  him  renew  his  promise 
of  silence  until  her  return  :  he  was  sorry  he  couldn't  tell 
old  Barty  ;  but  no  matter,  nothing  mattered,  except  the 
marvel  that  she  was  his.  He  whispered  adoration  to  her, 
breathing  her  name  again  and  again,  crowning  it,  as  with  a 
wreath,  with  those  old,  famihar  adjectives  that  had  so  lately 
become  intense  with  new  meaning  for  him  ;  he  forgot  Barty, 
forgot  even  her  portrait,  as  he  thought  of  herself. 

Barty  came  over  to  him  ;  the  two  young  men,  with  their 
common  secret,  suspected  by  neither,  a  secret  that  for  one 
was  a  living  ecstasy,  and  for  the  other  an  impossible  ideal, 
stood  silent,  full  of  their  own  thoughts.     Barty  spoke  first. 

"  It's  a  wonder  to  me  !  I  didn't  think  you  could  paint 
like  that,  Larry  !      I  didn't  think  anyone  could  !  " 


224  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  Well,  no  more  I  can,  really.  This  was  a  sort  of  a  miracle 
and  it  painted  itself." 

The  same  impulse  moved  them  both,  and  they  returned 
to  the  easel  on  which  was  the  picture,  but  with  a  quick  move- 
ment Larry  flung  the  drapery  over  the  frame  again  and  hid 
the  picture. 

*'  Didn't  you  say  you  had  a  message  for  me  from  your 
father?" 

Barty  accepted  the  change  of  subject  with  his  accustomed 
resignation  to  Larry's  moods. 

"  I  have.  He  said  he'd  be  at  home  to-morrow  afternoon 
— that's  Sunday — and  he  wanted  to  see  you  on  very  special 
business." 

"Do  you  know  what  about  ?  "  Larry  asked,  without 
interest,  while  he  arranged  the  many -coloured  silken  drapery 
in  effective  folds  over  the  picture. 
"  I  believe  old  Prendergast's  dying." 
Barty  hesitated  ;  then,  remembering  that  his  father  had 
not  enjoined  secrecy,  he  rushed  into  his  subject.  "  Larry, 
I  believe  the  chance  we've  been  waiting  for  is  come — or  as 
good  as  come  !  " 

**  Do  you  mean  that  it's  Prendergast  the  Member  who's 
dying  ?     Do  you  mean  my  getting  into  Parliament  ?  " 

Larry  swung  round  on  Barty,  and  fired  the  questions  at 
him,  quick  as  shots  from  a  revolver. 

The  colour  rose  again  in  Barty's  face.  His  dark,  short- 
sighted eyes,  that  were  set  on  Larry,  had  a  sudden  glow  in 
them.     He  nodded. 

**  He's  likely  dead  by  now  !  Oh  Larry  !  "  he  cried,  panting 
in  his  eagerness.  "  Maybe  the  chance  has  come  at  last  ! 
I  believe  you  might  be  the  man  Ireland  wants  !  I  believe 
you  might  take  Parnell's  place  !  Me  fawther  says  you're 
certain  to  be  nominated,  and  there's  no  opposition,  of  course. 
Anyhow,  if  there  were,  itself,  you'd  go  in  flying,  just  the  same  ! 
You're  the  man  we're  all  waiting  for  !  Larry,  old  cock  ! 
The  day  will  come  when  I'll  be  bragging  that  I  was  the  one 
first  gave  you  the  notion  to  go  into  politics  !  " 

Larry  was  gazing  at  his  man  of  business,  whose  aspect, 
it  may  be  conceded,  was  at  this  moment  singularly  at  variance 
with  the  usual  conception  of  such  a  functionary.  The  man 
of  business  gazed  back  at  him,  the  glow  intensifying  behind 


MOUNT    MUSIC  225 

his  eye-glasses  and  gathering  energy  from  the  answering 
gleam  in  Larry's  eyes. 

"  The  Bloody  Wars  !  "  uttered  Larry,  slowly  and  quite 
irrelevantly,  and  with  great  emphasis.  "  By  all  the  crosses 
in  a  yard  of  check  !  Let  me  hold  on  to  something  and 
think  !     This  is  a  game  and  a  half  !     I  must  think  furiously  I  " 

"  Do  not  !  "  exclaimed  Barty  ;  "  don't  think  at  all  !  Don't 
be  wasting  time  like  that  !  No  man  ever  had  a  greater  chance 
than  this  !  Lep  at  it,  Larry,  old  lad  !  Give  me  the  w^ord 
I  want,  and  I'll  wire  the  Doctor  to-night — a  message  he'll 
understand,  and  no  one  else.  Oh  Larry  !  "  he  implored, 
**  don't  cry  oif  now  !  You've  pots  of  money  ;  you  can  do 
any  damn  thing  you  like  !  If  you  refuse  this  chance  now 
you'll  only  regret  it  the  once,  and  that'll  be  all  your  life !  " 

Then  did  that  mysterious  and  mighty  agency,  the  warp 
that  a  mind  has  received  in  childhood,  come  to  reinforce 
the  enthusiasms  and  ambitions  of  youth,  and  urge  Larry  to 
assent.  That  other  and  nobler  Spirit  of  the  Nation  woke, 
and  the  passionate,  irreconcilable  voice,  that  had  first  spoken 
to  him  when  he  was  a  httle  boy,  woke  and  uttered  itself 
again,  shouting  to  him  its  wild  summons  at  a  moment  when 
the  tide  of  life  was  running  fiercest  in  him,  when  every 
emotion  was  at  highest  pressure  and  calling  for  great  adventure. 

"  All  right,  Barty,  my  son,  I'm  for  it  !  "  said  Larry,  with 
the  assumption  of  outward  calm,  when  heart  and  pulses  are 
pounding,  that  has  been  claimed  as  one  of  the  assets  of  a 
pubhc  school  education,  and  is,  even  without  that  advantage, 
the  birthright  of  such  as  young  Mr.  Coppinger. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

Larry  bicycled  up  to  the  white  chapel  on  the  hill,  to  Second 
Mass,  on  the  following  morning.  He  rode  fast  through 
the  converging  groups  of  people,  on  foot,  on  outside  cars, 
in  carts,  on  horseback.  It  was  four  years  since  he  had  last 
attended  a  service  there,  and  to  many  of  the  assembled  con- 
gregation he  had  become  a  stranger.  None  the  less  there 
was  no  hesitation  in  any  man's  mind  in  identifying  him  ; 
these  were  people  who  knew  a  gentleman  when  they  saw 
one,  and  the  young  owner  of  Coppinger's  Court  was  the  only 
gentleman  ever  to  be  seen  at  the  white  chapel  on  the  hill. 

Therefore  it  was  that  Larry's  right  hand  was  seldom  on 
his  handle-bar,  as  he  skimmed  through  the  people,  decent 
and  dark-dressed  in  their  Sunday  best,  who  saluted  with  a 
long-established  friendship  and  respect  this  solitary  repre- 
sentative of  their  traditional  enemies,  the  landlords. 

There  cannot  be  in  the  w^orld  a  people  more  unfailingly 
church-going  than  those  sons  and  daughters  of  Rome  who 
are  bred  in  Southern  Ireland.  Larry  looked  down,  from  his 
pew  in  the  gallery,  at  the  close  ranks  of  kneeling  figures, 
and  thought  with  compunction  how  long  it  was  since  he 
had  been  in  a  church,  and  thanked  God  that  he  had  come 
home  to  his  own  people,  and  that  their  religion  was  his. 
He  followed  the  words  of  the  service  with  a  new  realisation 
of  their  ancient  beauty.  He  trembled  with  an  unfamiliar 
emotion,  as,  in  the  charged  silence  of  the  crowded  chapel, 
the  bell  tinkled  and  the  censer  clashed,  sounds  that  have  in 
them  at  such  moments  a  heart-shaking  power,  magnetic, 
mystical.  He  heard  nothing  of  the  sermon  ;  in  his  eager 
mind  two  thoughts   raced  side  by  side,  now  one,  now  the 

226 


MOUNT   MUSIC  227 

other,  leading.  These  two  marvels  that  had  befallen.  That 
Christian  should  love  him  ;  this  had  the  mastery,  irradiating 
all  ;  but  with  the  vivid  sense  of  fellowship  and  communion 
that  the  service  brought  the  other  thought,  the  old  dream 
that  was  coming  true  of  standing  for  these  people,  of  making 
their  interests  his,  their  welfare  his  care,  moved  him 
profoundly. 

Outside  in  the  chapel  yard,  after  the  service,  the  congrega- 
tion was  in  no  hurry  to  disperse.  Larry  looked  about  him, 
and  found  many  friendly  eyes  set  on  him.  Larry,  too,  had 
a  friendly  heart,  and  he  bethought  him  that,  as  a  future  M.P., 
he  should  lose  no  opportunity  of  intercourse  with  his  con- 
stituents. He  recognised  the  solid  presence  of  John  Herlihy, 
an  elderly  farmer  who  had  been  one  of  the  largest  of  his  own 
late  tenants,  and  he  went  across  the  yard  to  where  he  stood 
and  shook  hands  with  him. 

'*  Fine  day,  John  !  Good  and  hot  for  the  harvest  !  Got 
your  threshing  done  yet  }  " 

"  T'is  very  warm,  sir,"  answered  John  Herlihy,  correcting, 
as  is  invariable,  Larry's  employment  of  the  vulgar  adjective 
"  hot  " ;  "  very  warm  entirely,  and  sure  I  have  my  corn 
threshed  this  ten  days,  the  same  as  yourself  !  " 

"  Nothing  like  taking  time  by  the  fetlock,  is  there,  John  !  " 
chaffed  Larry  (who,  until  that  moment,  had  been  unaware 
that  he  possessed  any  corn)  ;  '*  it's  a  good  harv^est  all  round, 
isn't  it  }  " 

''  Well,  pretty  fair,  thank  God  !  " 

"  And  the  country's  quiet  }  " 

*'  Never  better,  sir,  never  better  !  "  responded  John 
Herlihy,  weightily  ;  but  something  in  his  cool  eyes,  grey  and 
wise  as  a  parrot's,  impelled  Larry,  in  his  new-born  sense  of 
responsibility,  to  further  questioning. 

Mr.  John  Herlihy  was  a  man  of  the  order  to  whom  the 
label  "  respectable  "  inevitably  attaches  itself  (that  adjective 
which  acts  as  a  touch-stone  in  the  definition  of  class,  and  is 
a  compliment  up  to  a  certain  point,  an  offence  higher  up 
the  scale) ;  one  of  those  sound  and  sensible  and  thrifty  farmers 
who  are  the  strength  of  Ireland,  and  are  as  the  stones  of  a 
break-water,  over  which  the  storm-froth  of  the  waters  of 
politics  sweeps  unheeded. 

"  Well,"  Larry  went  on,  ''  it  wasn't  a  very  nice  way  that 


228  MOUNT    MUSIC 

those  Carmodys  up  at  Derrylugga  treated  Miss  Christian 
Talbot-Lowry  the  other  day  !  Killing  her  mare  under  her, 
the  cowardly  blackguards  !  " 

The  grey  parrot  eyes  scanned  Larry,  summing  him  up, 
determining  how  far  he  might  be  trusted,  deciding  that  an 
oblique  approach  might  be  most  advisable. 

**  Major  Lowry's  a  fine  gentleman,"  said  John  Herlihy, 
largely  ;  ''a  fine,  easy,  grauver  man  !  I  declare  I  was  sorry 
to  me  heart  when  he  gave  up  the  hounds !  If  it  was  to  be 
only  a  scold  or  a  curse  from  him,  ye'd  rather  it,  and  to  have 
he  be  goin'  through  the  country  !  " 

**  Then  what  have  people  against  him  ?  Good  God  ^  " 
cried  Larry,  hotly.  "  It's  too  easy  he  is  !  I  wouldn't  have 
let  those  devils  off  as  easy  as  he  did  !  " 

"  I  heard  the  Priest  and  a  few  more,  was  above  at  Mount 
Music  ere  yesterday,"  said  John  Herlihy,  in  a  slightly  lowered 
voice,  "  about  the  sale  of  the  property  they  were,  I  b'lieve. 
You  done  well,  Master  Larry,  you  got  quit  o'  the  whole  kit 
of  us  !  " 

Having  thus  shelved  the  controversial  subject,  Mr.  Herlihy, 
laughing  heartily  at  his  own  jest,  moved  towards  his  horse  and 
car,  that  were  hitched  to  the  chapel  gate,  and  let  down  the 
upturned  side  of  the  car. 

*'  Come  !  Get  up,  woman  !  Get  up  !  "  he  called  to  his 
wife,  a  prosperous  lady,  in  a  massive,  blue,  hooded  cloak, 
who  had  been  standing  by  the  gate,  patiently  w^aiting  his 
pleasure  ;    "  don't  be  delaying  me  this  way  !  " 

He  winked  at  Larry,  scrambling  on  to  the  car. 

"  What  tashpy  he  has  !  "  remarked  Mrs.  Herlihy,  benign- 
antly,  as  Larry  shook  hands  with  her. 

"  Ah,  you  spoil  him,  Mrs.  Herlihy  !  You  should  dock 
his  oats  !  "  said  Larry,  laughing  into  her  jolly,  round,  red 
face,  that  was  glistening  with  heat  under  the  heavy  cloth 
hood.     "  It's  a  grand  hot  day,  isn't  it  ?  " 

**  'Tis  very  warm,  sir,  indeed,"  corrected  Mrs.  Herlihy, 
as  she  mounted  the  car  with  an  agility  as  competent,  and  as 
unexpected,  as  that  of  a  trespassing  cow  confronted  with  a 
stone-faced  bank. 

Larry  went  home,  and  continued  a  letter  to  Christian 
that  he  had  begun  over  night.  He  told  her  of  Barty's  visit, 
and  of  all  that  it  was  likely  to  involve.     He  said  that  he  was 


MOUNT   MUSIC  229 

very  lonely,  and  he  believed  she  had  been  gone  a  year.  Even 
Aunt  Freddy  had  bolted  off  to  Dublin,  on  urgent  private 
affairs,  which  meant  the  dentist,  as  usual.  He  would  go 
over  to  see  Cousin  Dick,  only  that  he  w^as  absolutely  bound 
to  go  into  Cluhir.  At  this  point  he  entered  anew  upon  the 
subject  of  his  political  future,  and  what  it  meant  to  him. 
Of  the  fun  he  would  have  canvassing  the  electors.  Christian 
would  have  to  come  round  with  him,  and  in  very  obdurate 
cases  there  was  always  the  classical  method  of  the  Duchess 
of  Devonshire  to  be  resorted  to  !  Already,  he  said,  he  w^as 
frightfully  interested  in  the  whole  show,  and  he  meant — 
several  pages  were  devoted  by  Larry  to  his  intentions. 

Christian,  far  away  in  the  County  Limerick,  received  the 
letter  with  her  early  cup  of  tea,  and,  as  she  read  it,  felt  her 
soul  disquieted  within  her.  The  conjunction  of  the  stars 
of  Love  and  Politics  presaged,  she  felt,  disaster — as  if  the 
question  of  religion  had  not  been  complicating  enough  ! 
Even  had  her  gift  of  envisaging  a  situation  by  the  light  of 
reason  failed  her,  that  spiritual  aneroid,  which,  sensitive 
to  soul-pressure,  warned  her  intuitively  of  coming  joy  or 
sorrow,  ill  luck  or  good  fortune,  had  fallen  from  set  fair  to 
stormy.  She  had  gone  to  sleep  with  sunshine  in  her  heart  ; 
she  awoke  in  clouds,  dark  and  threatening.  She  read  Larry's 
letter,  and  knew  that  the  foreboding  would  come  true. 

It  is  probable  that  no  human  being  was  ever  less  the  prey 
of  intuitions  or  presentiments  than  was  young  Mr.  Coppinger, 
as  he  bicycled  lightly  into  Cluhir  along  the  solitary  steam- 
rolled  road  of  the  district,  a  typical  effort  of  Irish  civilisation, 
initiated  by  Dr.  Mangan,  that  had  proposed  to  link  Cluhir 
with  the  outer  world,  but  had  died,  like  a  worn-out  tramp, 
at  the  end  of  a  few  faltering  miles,  on  the  steps  of  the  work- 
house hospital  at  Riverstown.  The  road  ran  along  the  bank 
of  the  great  river,  with  nothing  save  a  low  fence  and  a  foot- 
path between  it  and  the  water.  The  river  was  still  and 
gleaming.  Masses  of  dove-coloured  cloud,  with  touches  of 
silver-saffron  where  their  lining  showed  through,  draped  the 
wide  sky,  in  over-lapping  folds.  The  planes  of  distance 
up  the  broad  valley  were  graduated  in  tone  by  a  succession 
of  screens  of  luminous  vapour  that  parcelled  out  the  land- 
scape, taking  away  all  colour  save  that  bestowed  by  the 
transparent  golden  grey  of  the  mist.     The  roofs  of  Cluhir 


230  MOUNT    MUSIC 

made  a  dark  profile  in  the  middle  distance,  the  lower  part 
of  the  houses  hidden  in  the  steaming  mist,  and  the  beautiful 
outline  of  the  twin  crests  of  Carrigaholt  was  Hke  a  golden 
shadow  in  the  sky  above  them.  The  spire  and  the  tower  of 
the  two  churches  of  Cluhir,  rose  on  either  side  of  the  pale 
radiance  of  the  river,  with  the  slender  arch  of  the  bridge 
joining  them,  as  if  to  show  in  allegory  their  inherent  oneness, 
their  joint  access  to  the  water  of  life.  Religion  counted  for 
but  little  with  Larry  in  those  days,  yet  as  the  wonder  of 
beauty  sank  into  his  soul,  that  was  ever  thirsty  for  beauty, 
the  thought  of  what  it  would  mean  for  Ireland  if  the  symbol 
of  the  Hnking  bridge  had  its  counterpart  in  reality  sprang 
into  his  eager  mind.  Then  he  thought  of  himself  and 
Christian,  and  knew  that  religion  could  never  come  between 
him  and  her,  and,  as  the  close-following  thought  of  what 
these  last  days  had  brought,  rose  in  his  mind,  the  wonder  of 
it  overwhelmed  him.  He  told  himself  that  the  only  possible 
explanation  of  her  caring  for  such  as  he,  was  that  Narcissus- 
like, she  had  seen  her  ow^n  image  reflected  in  his  heart,  and 
had  fallen  in  love  with  it.  The  fancy  attracted  him  ;  he 
rode  on,  his  mind  set  on  a  sonnet  that  should  fitly  enshrine 
the  thought,  and  politics  and  religion,  symbols  and  ideals, 
faded,  as  the  stars  go  out  when  the  sun  comes. 

For  the  last  couple  of  miles  before  Cluhir  was  reached, 
the  road  and  the  river  ran  their  parallel  course  in  a  line  that 
was  nearly  direct,  and,  from  a  long  way  off,  Larry  was  aware 
of  the  figures  of  a  man  and  woman  and  a  dog,  preceding 
him  towards  the  town.  He  noted  presently  that  the  dog 
had  passed  from  view,  and  then  he  saw  the  man  and  the  woman 
hurry  across  the  road  and  pass  through  the  gateway  of  a 
field.  He  was  soon  level  with  the  gate.  There  was  a  little 
knot  of  people  just  within  the  field,  and  in  the  moment  of 
perceiving  that  the  woman  was  Tishy  Mangan,  he  also  saw 
that  a  fierce  fight  was  in  progress  between  two  dogs. 

"  Oh,  stop  them,  stop  them  !  "  Tishy  was  screaming. 
"  That's  my  father's  dog,  and  he'll  be  killed  !  " 

She  belaboured  the  dogs,  futilely,  with  her  parasol. 

The  man  who  was  with  her,  a  tall  and  elaborately  well- 
dressed  young  gentleman  with  a  red  moustache,  confined 
himself,  very  wisely,  to  loud  exhortations  to  the  remainder 
of  the  group,  who  were  lads  from  the  town,  to  call  off  their 


MOUNT   MUSIC  231 

dog  ;  and  the  remainder  of  the  group,  with  equal  wisdom 
and  greater  candour,  were  unanimously  asserting  that  they 
would  be  "  in  dhread  "  to  touch  the  combatants.  The 
dogs  were  well  matched — strong,  yellow-red  Irish  terriers  ; 
each  had  the  other  by  the  side  of  the  throat,  and  each,  with 
the  deep,  snuffling  gurgles  of  strenuous  combat,  was  trying 
to  better  his  hold  on  his  enemy. 

Larry,  swift  in  action  as  in  thought,  was  off  his  bicycle 
and  into  the  ring  without  a  second  of  hesitation. 

*'  Catch  your  dog  by  the  tail,"  he  shouted  to  the  boys, 
while  he  performed  the  hke  office  for  the  Doctor's  dog. 
"  Now  then  !     Into  the  river  with  them  !" 

The  two  dogs,  fast  in  each  other's  jaws,  were  lifted,  and 
were  borne  across  the  road  to  the  edge  of  the  footpath, 
below  which  the  river  ran,  deep  and  strong. 

"Now  then!" 

The  two  rough,  yellow  bodies  were  swung  between  Larry 
and   his   coadjutor. 

"  Now  !    Let  'em  go  !  " 

The  dogs  flew  like  chain-shot  through  the  air,  and,  with  a 
tremendous  splash  disappeared  from  view  in  the  river. 
They  rose  to  the  surface  still  keeping  their  hold  of  one  another, 
and  sank  again.  A  second  time  they  rose  without  having 
loosened  their  grip,  but  at  their  third  appearance  they  were 
apart. 

"  Now  boys  !  Cruisht  them  well,  or  they'll  be  at  it  again 
when  they  land  !  " 

The  "  cruishting,"  which  means  pelting  with  stones, 
succeeded.  The  enemies  landed  at  diflPerent  points.  Miss 
Mangan's  charge  was  recaptured,  his  antagonist  was  stoned 
by  his  owners  until  out  of  range,  and  the  incident  closed. 

It  was  not,  however,  without  result. 

*'  I  think  you  never  met  Captain  Cloherty,  Mr.  Cop- 
pinger  ?  "  said  Tishy,  with  a  glance  at  Captain  Cloherty 
that  spoke  disapproval.  "  He's  not  as  useful  in  a  fight  as 
you  are,  though  he  is  in  the  Army  !  " 

"  My  branch  of  the  service  mends  wounds,  it  doesn't 
go  out  of  its  way  to  get  them  !  "  returned  Captain  Cloherty, 
composedly,  "  and  I  haven't  any  use  for  getting  bitten." 

"  Mr.  Coppinger  wasn't  so  nervous  !  "  retorted  Miss 
Mangan,   scorchingly,   **  and   it's   well   for  me   he   wasn't  ! 


232  MOUNT   MUSIC 

What'd  I  say  to  the  Doctor  if  I  had  to  tell  him  his  pet  dog  was 
dead  ?  " 

**  Something  else,  I  suppose  !  "  suggested  Captain  Cloherty, 
his  red  moustache  lifting  in  a  grin  that  Miss  Mangan  found 
excessively  exasperating  ;  "it  wouldn't  be  the  best  time  to 
tell  the  truth  at  all  !  " 

"  How  funny  you  are  !  "  said  Tishy,  with  a  blighting 
glance.  "  It's  easy  to  joke  now,  when  Mr.  Coppinger  has 
done  the  work  !  " 

She  swept  another  glance  of  her  grey  eyes  atLarrv,  very 
different  from  that  that  she  had  bestowed  upon  the  callous 
Cloherty. 

Few  young  men  object  to  exaltation  at  the  expense  of 
another,  especially  if  that  other  has  two  or  three  inches  the 
advantage  in  height,  and  they  are  themselves  not  unconscious 
of  deserving.  Larry  led  his  bicycle  and  walked  beside 
Tishy,  and  found  pleasure  in  meeting  her  again  after  four 
years  of  absence.  For  one  thing,  she  had  become  even  better- 
looking  than  he  remembered  her — turned  into  a  thundering 
handsome  young  woman,  he  thought — and  it  became  him, 
as  an  artist,  to  be  a  connoisseur  in  such  matters. 

"  Oh,  so  you're  going  to  see  the  Doctor,  are  you?"  she  said, 
"  I  know  he  was  expecting  you."  She  hesitated.  "  I  told 
him  I  thought  I'd  be  at  Mrs.Whelply's  this  afternoon.  He — 
he  might  be  surprised  if  he  thought  I  had  Tinker  out,  and 
that  he  was  in  a  fight " 

*'  I'll  keep  it  dark,"  Larry  said,  reassuringly,  while  he 
wondered  if  the  protecting  darkness  were  also  to  envelop 
Captain  Cloherty,  R.A.M.C.  He  thought,  on  the  whole, 
perhaps,  yes. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

Major  Taleot-Lowry  had  been  in  a  passion  for  three  days, 
and  Lady  Isabel,  who  had  borne  the  storm  alone,  longed  for 
Christian's  return,  as  the  lone  keeper  of  a  hghthouse  might 
long  for  the  support  of  his  comrade  during  a  gale. 

Judith  came  to  visit  her  parents  on  Monday,  but  Judith 
was  very  far  from  being  Christian,  and  could  be  relied  on 
merely  as  far  as  a  counter-irritant  might  prove  of  service. 

"Well,  of  course,  it  was  abominable  impertinence  of  the 
priest  to  come  up  with  the  tenants  to  try  and  bully  you, 
Papa,  but  you  know,  I  see  their  point."  Thus,  Judith, 
annoyingly,  and  with  pertinacity. 

**  You  do,  do  you  !  '*  interjected  Judith's  progenitor,  his 
once  ruddy  face  now  a  congested  purple.  *'  It  seems  to 
me,  Judith,  you're  always  deuced  ready  to  see  any  one's 
point  but  mine  !  " 

*•  After  all,"  went  on  Judith,  with  all  the  self-confidence 
and  intolerance  of  five  and  twenty,  *'  it's  in  your  interest 
to  sell,  just  as  much  as  theirs  to  buy  !  With  this  detestable 
Government  in  power  it  will  be  a  case  of  the  SibyUine  Books. 
You'll  see  the  Nationalists  will  have  it  all  their  own  way, 
and  the  next  Act " 

"  Nationalists  !  "  roared  the  Major,  sitting  upright  in  his 
chair,  and  panting,  his  utterance  temporarily  checked  by 
the  sheer  pressure  of  all  that  he  wished  to  say.  "  Don't 
talk  to  me  of  Nationalists  !  Common  thieves  !  That's 
all  they  are  !  There's  no  Nationalism  about  them  !  Call  it 
SociaHsm,  if  you  like,  or  any  other  name  for  robbery  !     They'd 

233 


234  MOUNT    MUSIC 

look  very  blue  if  we  took  to  shouting  "  Ireland  a  Nation  !  " 
and  expecting  to  come  in  at  the  finish  !  They  mightn't 
be  able  to  call  us  English  invaders  and  to  steal  our  property 
then  !  English  !  I've  got  Brian  Boroihme  in  my  pedigree 
and  that's  more  than  they  can  say  !  A  pack  of  half-bred 
descendants  of  Cromwell's  soldiers  !  That's  what  they  are, 
and  the  best  of  them,  too  !  That's  the  best  drop  of  blood 
they've  got  !  "  Dick  shouted,  veering  in  the  wind  of  his  own 
words  like  a  rudderless  ship  in  a  storm.  "  That's  what 
gives  them  tenacity  and  bigotry  !  Look  at  the  old  places 
that  they're  squeezing  the  old  families  out  of !  It's  the 
Protestant  farmers  and  the  Religious  Orders  that  are  getting 
them,  swarming  into  them  like  rats  !  Don't  tell  me  that 
I  and  my  family  aren't  a  better  asset  to  any  country  than  a 
lot  of  fat,  lazy  Monks  and  Nuns  !  " 

*'  But,  Papa,  they're  not  all  fat !  "  said  Judith,  beginning  to 
laugh. 

"  Deuce  a  many  of  them's  thin  for  want  of  plenty  to  eat  !  " 
returned  Dick,  with  the  confidence  of  a  man  whose  faith 
in  his  theories  has  never  been  interfered  with  by  investigation. 
He  was  recovering  his  temper,  having  enjoyed  the  delivery 
of  his  diatribe  ;  and  the  fact  that  he  had  not  only  silenced 
Judith  but  had  tickled  her  to  a  laugh,  restored  his  sense  of 
domination. 

Poor  old  King  Canute,  with  the  tide  by  this  time  well 
above  the  tops  of  his  hunting-boots,  and  all  the  famihar 
landmarks  becoming  submerged,  one  after  the  other !  It 
may  be  easy  to  deride  him,  but  it  is  hard  not  to  pity  him. 

This  was  on  Monday,  and  Christian  returned  from  her 
week-end  visit  that  evening.  Judith  stayed,  and  went  with 
Christian  to  her  room. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  began,  eagerly,  as  the  door  closed, 
**  when  are  you  going  to  announce  it  ?  " 

Christian  sat  down  on  her  bed.  She  was  looking  very 
tired. 

"  Never,  I  think  !  " 

Without  paying  attention  to  Judith's  exclamation  she 
took  a  newspaper  out  of  the  pocket  of  her  top-coat,  and  handed 
it  to  her  sister. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  235 

"  This  is  this  evening's  paper.  I  got  it  at  the  Junction. 
Read  that."     She  pointed  to  a  paragraph. 

Judith  read  it  ;  then  she  dropped  the  paper,  and  gazed  at 
Christian  with  dramatic  consternation. 

"  The  idiot  !  "  she  said,  at  length.  "  Couldn't  you  stop 
him  .?  " 

*'  He  had  promised  years  ago.  I  didn't  try.  He  couldn't 
break  his  word." 

"  Oh,  rot  !  "  said  Judith,  briefly. 

"  You  know  he  couldn't,  Judy." 

"Well,  you  know,  this  will  finish  him  with  Papa," 
said  Judith,  gloomily.  "  He's  bad  enough  as  it  is  about 
the  sales  to  the  tenants,  and  I  was  prepared  for  rows  over 

the    religious    business,   of    course,    but   this !      Can't 

you " 

"  I  can't  do  anything,"  interrupted  Christian,  getting  up. 
"  I  heard  from  him  this  morning,  fearfully  keen  about  it, 
but  he  didn't  know  then  if  the  Party  were  going  to  adopt 
him.     Evidently  they  have." 

"  Trust  them  for  that  !  "  said  Judith,  with  a  heavy  groang 
**  I  suppose  Larry  thinks  w^e  shall  all  be  delighted  !  What 
fools  men  are  !  Bill  did  say  once  that  it  had  been  suggested 
— oh,  ages  ago,  when  Larry  came  of  age  ;  Ma-in-law  told 
him — but  we  thought  it  had  died  out." 

Christian  hardly  heard  what  she  said.  She  was  standing 
at  the  open  window,  in  the  stillness  that  tells  of  intense 
mental  engrossment.  Self-deception  was  impossible  for 
her  ;  her  mind  was  too  acute  for  tolerance  of  subterfuge  ; 
and  for  her,  also,  away  and  beyond  the  merciless  findings 
of  intellect  was  the  besetment  of  presentiment,  intuition, 
inward  convictions  that  can  override  logical  conclusions, 
words  that  are  breathed  in  the  soul  as  by  a  wind,  and,  like 
the  wind,  are  born  and  die  in  mystery. 

The  last  of  the  daylight  had  gone  ;  there  was  a  touch  of 
frost ;  the  sky  was  clear  and  hard,  the  stars  shone  with  sharp 
brilliance,  some  of  them  had  long,  slanting  rays  on  either 
hand  that  looked  like  wings  of  fight  ;  a  new  moon  glittered 
among  them,  keen  and  clean,  and  vindictive  as  a  scimitar; 
in  the  quiet,  the  low  murmur  of  the  Broadwater  pervaded 
the  night.    Judith  watched   her  sister  with  unconsciously 


236  MOUNT   MUSIC 

appraising  eyes,  noting  the  straight  slenderness  of  her  figure, 
the   small,   high-held,   dark   head. 

**  Old  people  are  intolerable  !  "  she  thought  ;  **  she  shall 
not  sacrifice  herself  to  Papa's  prejudices  !  If  she  likes  Larry- 
she  shall  have  him  !  " 

But  she  was  too  wise  to  argue  with  Christian. 

Dick  Talbot-Lowry,  though  now  arrived  at  the  age  of 
sixty-nine,  was  as  unconvinced  as  ever  of  the  fact  that  time 
had  got  the  better  of  him,  and  that  its  despotism  was  daily 
deepening.  He  admitted  that  he  had  become  something 
of  an  invalid,  but  that  his  elder  daughter  should  have  classified 
him  as  an  old  person  would  have  appeared  to  him  as  absurd 
and  offensive.  There  are  minds  that  keep  this  inveterate 
youthfulness  ;  that  learn  nothing  of  age,  and  forget  nothing 
of  youth.  It  is  an  attitude  sometimes  charming,  sometimes 
undignified,  always  pathetic.  Christian  saw  old  age  as  a 
tragedy,  a  disaster,  to  alleviate  which  no  eftbrt  on  the  part 
of  the  young  could  be  too  great  ;  the  pathos  and  the  pity 
of  it  were  ever  before  her  eyes.  In  contest  with  her  father, 
if  contest  there  were  to  be,  she  would  go  into  the  arena  with 
her  right  hand  tied  behind  her  back. 

Without  any  definite  admission  of  failure.  Major  Talbot- 
Lowry  had  been  brought  to  submit  to  having  his  breakfast 
in  bed,  and  Robert  Evans,  a  sour  and  withered  Ganymede, 
was  the  bearer  of  it.  He  was  also  the  bearer  of  any  gossip 
that  might  be  available,  and  seldom  failed  to  provide  his 
master  with  a  stimulant  and  irritant.  On  the  morning 
following  on  Christian's  return  it  was  very  evident  that 
intelligence  of  unusual  greatness  seethed  in  the  cauldron 
wherein  fermented  Mr.  Evans'  brew  of  news.  His  rook- 
like eye  sparkled,  his  movements,  even  that  walk  for  whose 
disabilities  it  may  be  remembered  that  the  pantry  boy  had 
thanked  his  God,  were  alert  and  purposeful. 

"  Ye  didn't  see  the  Irish  Times  yet,  I  think  ?  "  he  began, 
standing  over  his  master,  and  looking  down  upon  him  with 
an  expression  as  triumphant  and  malign  as  that  of  a  carrion- 
crow  with  a  piece  of  stolen  meat.  He  rarely  bestowed  the 
usual  honorifics  upon  Dick,  considering  that  his  five  years* 
seniority  relieved  him  of  such  obligations.  "  I  wouldn't 
believe  all  I'd  read  in  the  papers,  but  this  is  true,  anyway  I  " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  237 

"  What*s  true  ?  "  said  Major  Dick,  irritably  ;  "  you've 
forgotten  the  salt  again,  Evans  !  Hovv'  the  devil  can  I  eat  an 
egg  without  salt  ?  Send  one  of  the  maids  for  it — don't  go 
yourself,"  he  added,  as  Evans  left  the  room.  *'  The  old 
fool'd  be  all  day  getting  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  an 
old  man's  contempt  for  old  age  in  another.  "Now,  then," 
as  Evans  returned,  "  what's  your  wonderful    bit   of  news  ?" 

*'  Ye  can  read  it  there  for  yourself,"  replied  Evans,  coldly ; 
he  was  ruffled  by  the  episode  of  the  salt. 

**  Damn  it,  man,  I  can't  read  the  paper  and  eat  an  egg  !  " 
snapped  the  Major.     *'  Out  with  your  lie,  whatever  it  is ! " 

**  Master  Larry's  chosen  for  the  Member  in  place  of 
Prendergast,"  said   Evans,   sulkily. 

If  Evans  had  been  unfortunate  in  the  way  in  which  his 
sensation  had  been  led  up  to,  its  reception  left  him  nothing 
to  desire.  Dick  was  stricken  to  an  instant  of  complete  silence. 
Then  he  roared  to  Evans  to  take  the  damned  tray  out  of  his 
way,  and  to  give  him  the  (otherwise  qualified)  paper. 

It  would  serve  no  purpose,  useful  or  otherwise,  to  attempt 
to  record  Dick  Talbot-Lowry's  denunciations  of  Larry,  of 
his  religion,  and  of  his  politics  ;  of,  secondarily,  his  ingrati- 
tude, his  treachery,  and  his  lack  of  the  most  rudimentary 
elements  of  a  gentleman.  They  lasted  long,  and  lacked  nothing 
of  effect  that  strength  of  lung  and  vigour  of  language  could 
bring  to  them.  And  Evans,  the  many-wintered  crow, 
hearkened,  and  rejoiced  that  he  was  seeing  his  desire  of  his 
enemy. 

*'  No  !  I  won't  eat  it !  Take  it  away — I  don't  want  it, 
I  tell  you  !  Curse  you,  can't  you  do  as  you're  bid  ?  "  Thus 
spake  Dick  Talbot-Lowry,  flinging  himself  back  on  his 
pillows,  and  shoving  the  breakfast-tray  from  him.  The 
hot  purple  colour  that  had  flooded  his  face  was  fading  ;  his 
voice  was  getting  hoarse  and  weak.  Evans,  with  an  appre- 
hensive eye  on  his  master's  changed  aspect,  carried  the  tray 
out  of  the  room. 

There  was  a  quick  step  on  the  stairs,  and  Larry  came 
lightly  along  the  landing. 

*'  The  Major  up,  Evans  }  No  ?  Oh,  all  right  !  May  I 
come  in.  Cousin  Dick  }  " 

He  swung  into  the  room. 

Old  Evans  carefully  shut  the  door  behind  him. 


238  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  Now  me  laddy-o  !  "  he  whispered,  rubbing  his  hooked 
grey  beak  with  one  finger,  and  chuckling  low  and  wheezily  : 
"  Now,  maybe  !  Me  fine  young  Papist  !  Ye '11  be  getting 
your  tay  in  a  mug  !    Hot  and  strong  !     Hot  and  strong  !  " 

He  moved  away  firom  the  door  with  the  tray  of  untouched 
breakfast  things. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

Lady  Isabel  was  returning  from  her  accustomed  house- 
keeping morning  visit  to  Mrs.  Dixon,  when  she  was  startled 
by  the  sharp  outcry  of  an  electric  bell. 

**  Dick's  room  !"  she  said  to  herself,  beginning  to  hurry  ; 
she  hardly  knew  why. 

A  housemaid  ran  down  the  long  passage  in  front  of  her, 
flying  to  the  summons.  Through  the  open  door  of  the 
dining-room  Lady  Isabel  saw  Christian  giving  the  dogs 
their  breakfast. 

"  Papa's  bell  is  ringing,  dear,"  said  Lady  Isabel,  breathing 
hard. 

**  I  heard  someone  go  up  to  his  room  just  now,"  said 
Christian,  languidly  ;  "I  haven't  seen  him  this  morning  ; 
I  was  in  the  yard  with  the  dogs " 

Someone  came  down  the  stairs,  headlong,  two  steps  at  a 
time.     Larry's  voice  shouted  : 

'*  Christian  !     Cousin  Isabel  !     Anyone !  " 

There  was  urgency  and  alarm  in  the  voice. 

Lady  Isabel  and  Christian  were  in  the  hall  in  an  instant, 
and  met  Larry  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

*'  Cousin    Dick's    ill  !     A    heart    attack,    I    think I 

didn't  know  what  to  do  for  him " 

"I  do  !  "  said  Christian,  speeding  upstairs. 

Her  mother  followed  her,  and  Larry  remained  in  the  hall. 
Of  one  thing  he  was  quite  certain,  that  he  had  better  keep  out 
of  Cousin  Dick's  sight.  His  nerves  were  quivering  from  the 
interview  that  had  been  so  shatteringly  abbreviated.  Had 
the  friendly  old  setter,  whose  head  at  this  moment  was  on 

239 


240  MOUNT   MUSIC 

his  knee,  while  her  limpid  eyes  swore  to  him  that  all  her 
love  was  his,  suddenly  turned  and  rent  him,  it  would  scarcely 
be  a  shock  worse  than  that  he  had  received.  He  had  been 
undeterred  by  the  ominous  gloom  of  the  Major's  greeting  ; 
few  young  men  have  very  keen  perception  of  mood,  and  Larry, 
deeply  self-engrossed,  wildly  happy,  had  flung  at  once  into 
his  theme,  which,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  was  Christian. 
Then  the  storm  broke,  and  the  lightning  blazed,  and  the 
thunders  of  the  house  uttered  their  voice,  while  Larry,  amazed, 
horrified,  gradually,  as  the  invective  gathered  volume  and 
venom,  becoming  angry,  stood  in  silence,  and  received  in 
a  single  cloud-burst  the  bitter  flood  of  long-pent  prejudice, 
jealousy,  and  sense  of  injury. 

*'  Dead  !  "  Dick  had  roared  ;  "I'd  rather  see  her  dead 
in  her  coflin  than  married  to " 

The  epithets  that  a  hoarded  hatred  finds  ready  to  hand 
when  its  pent  force  is  released,  come  horribly  from  the  lips 
of  an  old  man.  Yet,  almost  more  horrible  than  the  full 
tide  of  rage,  was  to  see  its  ebb,  as  **  the  sick  old  servant  " 
in  Major  Dick's  bosom  failed  him,  and  his  heart  staggered 
and  fainted  in  its  effort  to  abet  him  in  denouncing  the  young 
cousin  who  he  thought  had  wronged  him. 

Larry  sat,  fondling  the  old  setter's  chestnut  head,  thinking 
it  all  over,  flaming  again  at  the  remembered  insults,  quailing 
at  the  possibilities  as  they  concerned  Christian.  Once  she  had 
appeared  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  and  said  the  single  word, 
"  Better  !  "  before  she  vanished. 

One  half  of  Larry's  mind  said  "  Better  ?  What  do  I 
care  }  Better  if  he  dies,  if  he  comes  between  me  and  her  !  " 
The  other,  which  was  his  deeper  self,  preserved  the  memory 
of  Dick's  greying  face  and  frightened  eyes,  and  was  glad 
that  relief  had  come. 

At  last  Christian  came  to  him,  slowly  and  with  a  dragging 
step,  down  the  wide  staircase.  Her  face  was  white,  her  eyes 
were  set  in  shadows. 

"  How  is  he  ?  " 

"  Round  the  corner,  I  think.     We've  wired  for  Mangan." 

*'  Christian,  I  want  to  explain — I  said  nothing — I  never 
meant  to  annoy  him.  I  began  about  you,  and  that — that  we 
loved  each  other.  For  we  do.  Christian,  don't  we  }  "  He 
had  her  hands  in  his,  he  crushed   them  in  his  anxiety,  his 


MOUNT    MUSIC  241 

eyes  implored  her.  "  Then  suddenly  he  began  to  abuse  me 
like  a  madman  !  My  religion,  my  politics,  my  treachery  to 
my  class — I  can't  tell  you  what  he  didn't  say  !  And  then 
he  swore  he'd  rather  see  you  dead  than  married  to  me.  I 
don't  know  what  I  said — nothing,  I  think  ;  he  began  to  look 
as  if  he  were  dying  himself,  and  I  rang  the  bell  and  bolted 
for  you." 

**  Poor  boy  !  "  said  Christian. 

He  thought  that  her  face  as  she  looked  at  him  was  as  it 
were  the  face  of  an  angel,  but  the  sorrow  in  it  frightened 
him. 

**  Come  into  the  study,"  she  said,  freeing  her  hands  from 
his  grasp  ;   "  we  can't  talk  here." 

The  study  door  was  open  ;  he  followed  her  in  silence,  and, 
shutting  the  door,  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  sofa. 

**  Larry,  we've  got  to  face  it,  you  know  ;  we've  got  to  face 
it,"  she  began,  and  gave  back  to  him  her  slender  sensitive 
hand,  as  if  to  heal  the  wound  of  what  the  words  implied. 

"  Face  what  }  "  said  Larry,  stubbornly,  girding  himself 
for  resistance. 

**  Face  delay — opposition " 

*'  I'll  face  opposition  as  much  as  you  like,  but  I  won't  face 
delay  !  Why  should  we  ?  We're  of  age.  There's  nothing 
against  me  !  " 

Christian  smiled  faintly. 

"  Dear  child,  I  know  that.  It's  not  the  facts  that  are 
against  us,    it's  the  fancies " 

"  I  won't  be  patronised  !  "  said  Larry,  vehemently.  "  I'm 
not  your  dear  child  !  I'm  the  man  you've  promised  to  m^arry  ! 
No  one's  fancies  have  a  right  to  interfere  with  us  !  " 

His  arm  was  round  her,  and  he  felt  her  tremble.  He 
loosed  her  hand,  and  with  his  hand  that  had  held  it  he  turned 
her  face  to  his.  Then  he  kissed  her,  many  times,  with  an 
ever-growing  abandonment  as  he  felt  the  response  that*  she 
tried  in  vain  to  withhold. 

At  length,  in  spite  of  him,  she  hid  her  face  in  his  shoulder. 

"  No,  Larry,  no ! "  she  gasped,  her  breath  coming  short. 
*'  Dearest,  don't  be  cruel  to  me  !  How  can  I  keep  that 
promise  !  If  you  had  seen  Papa  just  now,  and  Mother — 
her  terror  and  her  helplessness  !  How  could  I  leave  them  : 
Supposing  that  I  defied  him,  and  married  you,  and  that  he 
0 


242  MOUNT   MUSIC 

died  in  one  of  these  furies  '    Just  think  what  that  would  be 
for  us  !  " 

*'  He  wouldn't  die  !  "  said  Larry,  obstinately.  *'  People 
don't  die  as  easy  as  all  that  !  "  he  added,  with  a  fierce  thought 
of  regret  that  Dick  had  not  gone  out  in  this  latest  storm. 

*'  Listen,"  said  Christian,  beseechingly.  "  Don't  let  us 
be  in  such  a  hurry.  Everything  needn't  be  settled  at  once. 
We'll  ask  Dr.  Mangan  how  Papa  is,  and  if  there  is  real  danger 
for  him  in  these  rages.  He  was  nearly  as  bad  on  Saturday 
after  the  Priest  and  the  tenants  had  been  here." 

Larry's  face  was  dark  ;  he  was  not  used  to  opposition. 
His  guardians  and  his  spiritual  directors  had  alike  found  that 
while  he  was  easy  to  lead,  he  was  a  difficulty  and  a  danger 
to  drive.  He  was  stirred  to  the  depths  now.  The  strain  of 
receiving  Dick's  onslaught  in  silence,  the  shock  of  his  collapse, 
and  now  the  fire  that  Christian's  nearness  and  dearness  had 
lit  in  him,  all  broke  his  self-control.     He  held  her  to  him. 

"  I  will  never  let  you  go  !     Never !  "     His  Hps  were 

on  hers  again,  life,  with  all  its  difficulties,  was  again  forgotten, 
the  rhyme  of  the  Fairies'  Well  galloped  in  his  hot  brain  : 
"  My  heart  in  your  hands,  your  heart  in  me." 

The  sound  of  the  hall  door  opening,  and  the  grinding 
roar  of  a  motor  engine  running  down,  recalled  them  both 
to  this  troublesome  world. 

But  in  Christian's  heart,  whether  from  within  or  from 
without,  a  voice  had  spoken,  telling  the  kisses,  one  by  one, 
as  though  they  were  the  petals  of  a  flower.  "  This 
year,  next  year,  sometime,  never  !  "  If  the  last  word  had 
been  *'  sometime,"  or  *'  never,"  she  knew  not  ;  she  knew 
only  that  if  what  was  before  her  was  the  way  of  renunciation, 
she  would  find  it  a  hard  way  to  walk  in. 

Dr.  Mangan  stood,  a  massive  presence,  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs,  and  talked  massively  to  Lady  Isabel  of  Dick's 
condition. 

*'  Very  critical — no  worries — nourishment — would  he  have 
a  nurse  ?  " 

To  which  Lady  Isabel,  a  poor,  shaken,  pallid  Lady  Isabel, 
with  no  more  backbone  than  the  shape  of  blancmange, 
which,  it  must  be  said,  she  somewhat  resembled,  replied  : 
*'  Nothing  would  induce  him  !  " 

**  Then   I   should   like   to  have   a   little  talk   with   Miss 


MOUNT    MUSIC  243 

Christian,"  said  the  Big  Doctor,  beginning  to  walk  down- 
stairs, slowly,  solemnly,  soUdly,  like  a  trick-elephant  at  a 
circus. 

Christian's  quick  ears  had  heard  his  voice  on  the  stairs, 
and  she  met  him  in  the  hall.  Larry  stood  irresolute  at  the 
door  of  the  study.  His  eyes  met  those  of  the  Doctor,  and 
something  during  the  interchange  of  glances  suggested  that 
his  presence  was  not  desired.  He  returned  to  the  study 
and  shut  the  door,  and  wished  that  he  could  have  a  word 
alone  with  the  Doctor,  just  to  put  him  up  to  what  to  say  to 
Christian.  He  could  hear  the  heavy  rumble  of  the  Doctor's 
bass  voice,  and  the  soft  alto  murmur  of  Christian's  replies. 
She  had  the  Irish  voice,  pitched  on  a  low  note,  an  instrument 
more  apt  for  pathos  than  for  gaiety,  which  is,  perhaps,  what 
gives  to  its  gaiety  so  special  a  charm. 

Larry  stood  by  the  window  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
trying  to  steady  himself.  Deep  under  his  panic  uncertainty 
as  to  the  strength  of  his  hold  on  Christian,  was  the  anger 
that  Dick's  denunciation  had  roused  in  him,  and  momently, 
as  his  mind  went  back  over  the  interview,  remembrance  of 
the  insults  became  more  unendurable.  Abuse  from  the  old 
to  the  young,  and  from  a  sick  man  to  a  sound  one,  cannot 
fail  to  rankle,  since  it  cannot  be  flung  back.  Generosity 
may  impose  silence,  but  it  cannot  obliterate  an  insult  or  heal 
a  wound. 

Christian  came  into  the  room  ;  he  heard  her  come,  but 
he  would  not  look  round.     She  slid  her  hand  into  his  arm. 

"  Larry  !  Dear  !  Listen  to  me  ;  there's  no  way  out  of 
it  but  patience.  Dr.  Mangan  says  he  must  be  kept  absolutely 
quiet,  and  have  nothing  to  annoy  him.  He  says  he  might 
die  in  an  instant  in  one  of  those  attacks.     He's  not  himself 

now,    Larry — so    little     makes    him    lose    self-control '* 

She  paused,  but  Larry  did  not  speak.  *'  You  couldn't 
want  me  to  sacrifice  the  little  share  of  life  left  to  him  to  our 
happiness  ;  I  know  you  couldn't  !  Larry,  he's  an  old  man  ; 
it  can't  be  for  very  long " 

"  I  don't  see  that  that  follows,"  said  Larry,  implacably. 
"  He  had  strength  enough  to  blackguard  me  very  thoroughly, 
and  it  hasn't  done  him  any  harm.  It  seems  to  me,  Fm  the 
one  to  be  sacrificed  !  " 

"  He  spoke  to  Mother  about  us — about  what  you  said  to 


244  MOUNT   MUSIC 

him.  He  began  about  it  the  instant  he  could  speak.  She—  " 
Christian  hesitated,  "  she  could  only  quiet  him  by  saying 
there  was  no  engagement  between  us." 

"  Then  she  said  what  wasn't  true  !  '* 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  true  !  "  said  Christian,  desperately  ;  "  it's 
got  to  be  true " 

**  Very  well,"  said  Larry,  moving  away,  so  that  her  hand 
fell  from  his  arm.  "If  it's  got  to  be  true  I  suppose  there's 
no  more  to  be  said.  I  may  as  well  go.  After  all,  I  daresay 
you're  well  quit  of  me.  Your  father  says  I'm  a  damned 
Papist  and " 

**  I  won't  listen  to  you  !"  broke  in  Christian  "  What's 
the  use  of  hurting  me  and  hurting  yourself  like  this  ?  Larry, 
I'll  wait  for  you  for  ever — you  know  that — time  will  make 
no  difference.  Don't  make  it  harder  for  me  than  it  must 
be!  " 

**  You  don't  seem  to  think  much  about  me^^^  said  Larry, 
with  a  still  rage  that  was  a  new  thing  with  him.  He  left  her 
side,  and  walked  steadily  to  the  door  ;  then  he  turned,  and 
in  a  few  quick  steps  came  back  to  her.  He  put  his  hands 
on  her  shoulders  ;  he  was  not  much  taller  than  she,  and  his 
eyes  looked  straight  into  hers. 

*'  Then  it's  true,  is  it  .?  You're  off  it  ?  You've  given 
me  the  chuck  ?  " 

He  spoke  roughly,  and  gripped  her  harder  than  he  knew, 
and  in  the  tension  of  her  nerves,  the  roughness  of  the  words 
and  action  cut  her  like  the  stroke  of  a  whip.  Almost  as  if 
he  had  struck  her,  a  splash  of  colour  came  in  her  face. 

Larry  was  blind  to  the  torture  in  her  eyes,  but  he  saw  the 
quick  red,  and  knew  he  had  hurt  her  high  spirit,  and  was 
glad. 

*'  If  you  like  to  put  it  in  that  way  !  "  said  Christian,  her 
head  up,  her  mood  answering  his,  **  apparently  it  is  the 
only  thing  to  be  done  !  " 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  Dr.  Mangan's  voice  said  : 
"I'm  going  back  to  Cluhir  now.  Haven't  you  to  meet 
Father  Greer  at  twelve  o'clock,  Larry  .''  I  could  give  you 
a  Hft  if  you  hke " 

^  ^  w  w  w  ^  _ 

From  an  early  work  on  the  Fauna  of  the  Indian   Forest 


MOUNT   MUSIC  245 

the  following  extract  may  be  quoted  : 

'*  The  elephant's  trunk  then  encircled  the  young  man's 
body,  and  placing  him  gently  upon  its  back,  the  huge 
creature  ambled  away  with  its  prize  to  the  depths  of  the 
jungle." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

Little  Mary  Twomey,  footing  it  into  Cluhir  on  a  misty 
Saturday  morning,  with  a  basket  of  fowl  under  her  brown 
and  buff  shawl,  was  not  sorry  when,  from  a  side  road  on  the 
line  of  march,  a  donkey-cart,  driven  by  an  acquaintance, 
drew  forth  at  the  instant  of  her  passing. 

"  God  bless  ye,  John  Brien,"  she  said,  when  the  suitable 
salutations  and  comments  on  the  weather  had  been  exchanged, 
with  the  rigorous  courtesy  observed  by  such  as  Mary  Twomey 
and  John  Brien  with  one  another,  **  this  basket  is  very  weighty 
on  me " 

**  Put  it  up  on  the  butt,  ma'am,"  responded  John  Brien. 
**  Put  it  up,  for  God's  sake,  and  let  you  sit  up  with  it.  Sure 
the  ass  is  able  for  more  than  yourself !  " 

This  referred,  with  polite  facetiousness,  to  Mrs.  Twomey's 
stature,  and  was  taken  by  her  in  excellent  part. 

She  uttered  a  brief  screech.  "  Isn't  it  what  they  say  they 
puts  the  best  of  goods  in  the  small  passels  ?  "  she  demanded  ; 
**  but  for  all,  I  wouldn't  wish  it  to  be  too  small  altogether  ! 
*  Look  !  '  I  says  to  that  owld  man  I  have,  '  Look  !  When 
I'll  be  dead,  let  ye  tell  the  car-pennther  that  he'll  make  the 
coffin  a  bit-een  too  long,  the  way  the  people'U  think  the 
womaneen  inside  in  it  wasn't  altogether  too  small  entirely  ! '" 

"  Arrah,  don't  talk  of  dyin'  for  a  while,  ma'am  !  "  said 
John  Brien,  gallantly.  "  Aren't  you  an'  me  about  the  one 
age,  and  faith,  when  you're  dyin'  I'll  be  sending  for  the 
priest  for  meself  !  " 

**  Well,  please  God,  the  pair  of  us'll  knock  out  a  spell 
yet  !  "  responded  Mrs.  Twomey,  cheerfully  ;  *'  for  as  little 
as  I  am,  the  fly  itself  wouldn't  like  to  die  !  " 

246 


MOUNT   MUSIC  247 

John  Brien  did  not  question  this  assertion.  "  The  'fluenzy 
is  very  raging  these  times,"  he  remarked. 

"  'Tis  a  nassty.,  dirty  disease  altogether,  God  help  us  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Twomey,  with  feeling. 

*'  It  is,  and  very  numerous,"  replied  John  Brien.  *'  There's 
people  dying  now  that  never  died  before." 

This  statement  presented  no  difficulty  to  Mrs.  Twomey, 
since  she  had  no  desire  to  exult  over  Mr.  Brien  as  being  what  is 
often  called  a  typical  Irishman,  and  was  able  to  accept  its 
rather  excessive  emphasis  in  the  sense  in  which  it  was  intended. 

"I'm  told  Major  Lowry  is  sick  enough,"  went  on  John 
Brien  ;   *'  an  impression  like,  on  the  heart,  they  tells  me." 

*'  He  have  enough  to  trouble  him,"  said  Mrs.  Twomey, 
portentously  ;  *'  and  I  wouldn't  wish  it  to  him.  A  fine 
man  he  was.  Ye'd  stand  in  the  road  to  look  at  him  !  The 
highest  gentleman  of  the  day  !  " 

"  Well,  that's  true  enough,"  said  John  Brien,  cautiously. 
*'  There's  some  says  the  servants  in  the  house  didn't  get 
their  hire  this  two  years." 

"  Dirty  little  liars  !  "  said  Mrs.  Twomey,  warmly.  "  Divil 
mend  them,  and  their  chat  !  There  isn't  one  but  has  as 
many  lies  told  as'd  sicken  an  ass  !  Wasn't  I  sellin'  a  score 
of  eggs  to  the  Docthor's  w^fe  a'  Saturday,  and  she  askin* 
me  this  an'  that,  and  '  wasn't  it  said  young  Mr.  Coppinger 
was  to  marry  Miss  Christhian  Lowry  '  ?     Ah  ha  !     She  was 

dam'  sweet,  but  she  didn't  get "      Mrs.  Twomey  swiftly 

licked  and  exhibited  a  grey  and  wrinkled  finger — **  that  much 
from  me  !  " 

*'  Ha,  very  good,  faith  !  "  said  John  Brien  ;  "  them  women 
wants  to  know  too  much  !  " 

*'  And  if  they  do  itself,"  retorted  Mrs.  Twomey,  instant 
in  defence  of  her  sex,  **  isn't  it  to  plase  the  min  that's  follyin* 
them  for  the  news  !  Yis  !  An'  they  too  big  fools  to  hear 
it  for  theirselves  !  " 

John  Brien,  somewhat  stupified  by  this  home  thrust, 
made  no  reply,  but  smote  the  donkey  heavily,  provoking  it 
to  a  jog  that  temporarily  jolted  conversation  to  death. 

At  the  next  incline,  however,  Mrs.  Twomey  took  up  her 
parable   again. 

'*  Tell  me  now  awhile,  John,  what  day  is  this  th'  election 
is?" 


248  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  I  d'no  if  it  isn't  Choosday  week  it  is,"  replied  John  Brien, 
without  interest.  *'  There's  two  o'  them  up  for  it  now. 
Young  Coppinger,  that  was  the  first  in  it,  and  a  chap  from 
T'prairy.  What's  this  his  name  is  ? — Burke,  I  think  it  is. 
Sure  they  had  two  meetin's  after  chapel  at  Riverstown  last 
Sunday.  Roaring  there  they  were  out  o'  mothor-cars. 
But  it's  little  I  regard  them  and  their  higs  and  thrigs  !  " 

"  Why  wouldn't  ye  wote  for  Larry  Coppinger,  John  ?  " 
said  Mrs.Twomey,  persuasively  "and  him  '  All-for-Ireland  '  ! 
A  strong,  cocky  young  boy  he  is  too  ;  greatly  for  composhing 
he  is,  an'  painting,  an'  the  like  o'  that.  Sure  didn't  I  tell  him  it 
was  what  it  was  he  had  a  rag  on  every  bush  !  '  Well,'  says 
he,  *  Mrs.  Twomey,'  says  he, '  I'll  have  another  rag  on  another 
bush  soon,'  says  he.  '  Sir,'  says  I  to  him,  '  that  much  would 
not  surpass  your  honour  !  '  But  faith,  they're  tellin'  me  now 
Burke'll  have  him  bet  out,  and  I'm  sorry  to  me  heart  for 
it." 

John  Brien  looked  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the  other, 
and  ahead,  between  his  donkey's  ears.  The  mist  was  close 
round  the  cart  as  the  walls  of  a  room  ;  the  only  sound  was 
the  thin  wind  singing  in  the  telegraph  wires. 

"  Mrs.  Twomey,"  murmured  John  Brien,  "  the  Clergy  is 
agin  him  !  " 

"  Oh,  great  and  merciful  Lord  God  !  "  said  Mrs.  Twomey. 
She  said  it  without  either  irreverence  or  reverence.  She 
merely  wished  to  express  to  John  Brien  her  comprehension 
of  the  importance  of  his  statement. 

Larry  had  flung  himself  into  electioneering  as  an  alternative 
to  drink.  That  was  how  he  put  it  to  himself.  He  took 
rooms  at  Hallinan's  Hotel,  in  Cluhir,  in  order  to  be  on  top 
of  the  railway  station,  and  the  situation  generally,  and  he 
had,  moreover,  a  standing  invitation  to  No.  6,  The  Mall, 
for  any  meal,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  that  he  found 
suitable.  The  district  to  be  canvassed  was  a  wide  one, 
and  day  after  day  Larry  and  the  faithful  Barty  went  forth 
to  interview  '^People  of  importance  " ;  darkly-cautious 
publicans,  with  wives  lurking  at  hand  to  make  sure  that 
"Himself  "  should  do  nothing  rash  ;  uninterested  farmers, 
who  "  had  their  land  bought,"  and  were  left  cold  by  the 
differences  'twixt  Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee  ;  and 
visits  to  "  The  Clergy  "  of  all  denominations,  productive  of 


MOUNT    MUSIC  249 

much   artificially   friendly   converse    and   no   very   definite 
promises. 

Of  Larry's  own  Communion,  Father  Tim  Sweeny  alone 
announced  himself,  unhesitatingly,  as  being  of  Larry's  camp. 
Father  Tim's  hostility  had  not  been  proof  against  Larry's 
charms,  more  especially  since  these  were  combined  with  a 
substantial  proof  of  the  young  candidate's  interest  in  the 
decoration  of  the  new  chapel  ;  and,  at  the  gate  of  that  chapel, 
(the  site  of  which  he  did  not  forget  that  he  owed  to  Larry) 
he  attended  one  of  Larry's  meetings,  and  shook  his  bovine 
head  at  his  flock,  and  bellowed  ferocious  commendation  of 
the  young  man,  who,  he  thundered,  had  not  failed  in  his 
duty  by  the  Church  and  the  people.  There  was  a  down- 
right, fighting  quality  in  Father  Sweeny  that  was  large  and 
stimulating.  Larry  felt  that  he  had,  at  least,  his  own  parish 
firmly  at  his  back,  and  wished  that  he  had  a  few  more  such 
as  Father  Tim  to  stand  by  him. 

The  Rev.  Matthew  Cotton  (stifl"ened  by  Mrs.  Cotton) 
said  that  to  enter  a  hustings  for  a  Home  Ruler,  of  any  variety, 
would  be  for  him  an  unauthorised  bowing  down  in  the  House 
of  Rimmon,  a  simile  that  conveyed  little  to  Larry,  and  nothing 
at  all,  allegorically,  to  his  agent,  Barty  Mangan,  though  its 
practical  interpretation  presented  no  difficulties  to  either  of 
them. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Armstrong,  Pastor  of  the  Methodists, 
admitted  to  a  preference  for  an  "  All-for-Irelander,"  as 
opposed  to  an  Official  Nationalist ;  but  evaded  the 
responsibility  of  a  promise  by  saying  that  he  would  lay  the 
matter  before  the  Lord,  and  would  write  later. 

Neither  did  young  Mr.  Coppinger  receive  much  encourage- 
ment from  hi3  own  class.  Bill  Kirby,  indeed,  undertook 
to  support  him  and  even  volunteered  to  go  round  with  him 
on  his  canvassing  expeditions,  but  this  was  considered  by 
Larry's  Committee  as  being  of  questionable  advantage, 
even,  possibly,  affording  to  the  enemy  an  occasion  to 
blaspheme,  and  the  offer  (made,  it  may  be  said,  at  Judith's 
instigation)  was  declined. 

Nor,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  Larry  himself  disposed  to 
take  Bill  Kirby 's  proffered  hand.  He  told  himself  that  he 
was  done  with  that  lot.  He  was  bitterly  angry  with  Christian. 
He  said  to  himself  that  he  would  never  forgive  her  ;   would 


250  MOUNT   MUSIC 

never,  if  he  could  help  it,  see  one  of  them  again.  At  a  word 
from  her  father  she  had  chucked  him  ;  without  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  without  a  word  to  show  that  she  was  even  sorry 
for  her  father's  treatment  of  him.  "  Apparently  it's  the 
only  thing  to  do  !  "  she  had  said.  That  was  all  she  thought  of 
keeping  a  promise  !  What  about  leaving  father  and  mother 
and  sticking  to  your  husband,  he  would  like  to  know  !  These 
Protestants  who  talked  such  a  lot  about  reading  the  Bible  ! 
It  was  quite  true  what  old  Mangan  had  said  :  *'  When  all 
comes  to  all,  a  man  must  stick  to  his  own  Church  !  "  All 
these  others,  these  St.  Georges,  and  Westropps,  and  old 
Ardmore,  and  the  rest  of  them,  had  only  been  waiting  to 
jump  on  him  as  soon  as  he  put  a  foot  out  of  the  rut  they  all 
walked  in.  They  had  waited  for  the  chance  to  make  him  a 
pariah.  Now  they  had  it.  All  right  !  He  could  face  that. 
They  should  soon  see  how  little  he  thought  of  them  ! 

He  pitched  himself  headlong  into  the  contest.  The 
weather  had  fallen  from  grace.  October,  having  been  borne 
in  on  the  wings  of  a  gale,  was  storming  on  through  wind  and 
wet,  and  the  game  of  canvassing,  that  had  seemed,  on  that 
sunny  day  when  he  had  written  to  Christian,  so  *'  frightfully 
interesting,"  was  beginning  to  pall.  Boring  as  were  the 
personal  interviews,  and  exhausting  the  evening  oratory  in 
town  halls  and  school-houses,  the  Sunday  meetings  at  the 
gates  of  the  chapels  wxre  still  more  arduous.  On  each  Sunday, 
during  the  period  between  the  death  of  Daniel  Prendergast 
and  the  election  of  his  successor,  did  young  Mr.  Coppinger, 
with  chosen  members  of  his  *'  Commy-tee  " — he  had  learnt 
to  accept  the  inflexible  local  pronunciation — splash  from 
chapel  to  chapel,  to  meet  the  congregations,  and  to  shout 
platitudes  to  them.  Larry  began  to  feel  that  no  conviction 
— however  fervently  held — could  survive  the  ordeal  of  being 
slowly  yelled  to  a  bored  crowd  from  the  front  seat  of  a  motor 
car.  He  told  himself  that  he  had  become  a  gramophone, 
and  a  tired  gramophone,  badly  in  want  of  winding  up,  at 
that. 

It  would  be  of  little  avail  to  attempt  to  define  the  precise 
shade  of  green  of  young  Mr.  Coppinger's  political  flag  ; 
whether,  as  a  facetious  supporter  put  it,  it  was  "  say-green, 
pay-green,  tay-green,  or  bottle."  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
it  varied  sufficiently  from  that  of  Mr.  Burke  to  provide  their 


MOUNT   MUSIC  251 

respective  followers  with  a  satisfactory  casus  belli.  The 
shades  of  political  opinion  in  Ireland  change,  and  melt 
and  merge  into  each  other  as  the  years  pass,  even  as  the  colours 
of  her  surrounding  seas  vary,  deepening  and  paling  with  the 
changing  clouds,  yet  affecting  only  the  surface,  leaving  the 
sullen  depths  unchanged.  Larry  knew  no  more  of  Ireland 
than  a  boy  can  learn  in  his  school  holidays  ;  it  was  only  by 
degrees  that  he  reahsed  that  in  Ireland,  as  he  now  found  it, 
the  single  element  of  discord  that  remained  ever  unchanged 
was  Religion.  He  had  spent  the  four  most  recent  and  most 
receptive  years  of  his  life  in  an  atmosphere  in  which  religion 
had  no  existence.  The  hem  of  its  raiment  might,  perhaps, 
have  been  touched,  when,  as  sometimes  happened,  the  subject 
of  a  studio  composition  was  taken  from  the  Bible,  or  the 
Apocrypha.  Then,  possibly,  would  the  young  pagans  of 
Larry's  circle  discover  as  much  acquaintance  with  the 
Scriptures  as  would  point  a  jest,  and  give  an  agreeable 
sensation  of  irreverence  in  discussing  the  details  of  the  subject. 
"  There,"  thought  Larry,  "  no  one  thought  about  your 
religion.  No  one  cared  if  you  had  one,  and  the  presumption 
was  that  you  hadn't."  But  here,  in  these  little  Irish  towns, 
the  question  of  a  man's  private  views  on  a  matter  that  might 
be  supposed  to  concern  only  himself,  appeared  of  paramount 
importance.  He  listened  to  denunciations  of  Protestants 
until  he  felt,  as  he  told  the  faithful  Barty,  that  *'  for  tuppence  " 
he  would  change  over  himself ;  just  as  in  some  sections  of 
the  rival  camp,  he  would  have  heard  to  weariness  of  the 
bigotry  and  errors  of  Romanism.  He  was  brought,  as  many 
people  more  God-fearing  than  he  have  been  brought, 
to  debate  the  question  as  to  whether  a  common  atheism  were 
not  the  only  panacea  for  the  mutual  hatreds  that,  as  appeared 
to  him  from  his  present  point  of  view,  ruled  the  Island 
of  Saints.  He  and  Barty  would  sit  up  over  the  dying  embers 
of  the  dining-room  fire  of  No.  6,  The  Mall,  talking  ; 
wrangling,  in  a  sort  of  country-dance  of  argument,  in  which 
they  advanced  and  retired,  and  joined  hands,  and  flung  away 
from  each  other  again ;  ending,  generally,  in  such  agreement 
as  might  be  found  in  a  comimon  determination  to  lay  all  the 
blame  for  all  the  malice  and  uncharitableness  at  the  door 
of  the  clergy  of  the  two  creeds  ;  a  comprehensive  decision,  and 
a  consoling  one,  from  the  point  of  view  of  two  laymen. 


252  MOUNT   MUSIC 

Larry,  in  his  loneliness,  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
frequenting  No.  6  ;  of  **  taking  pot-luck,"  of  "  dropping 
in,"  or  of  '*  turning  in,"  all  of  which  courses  had  been  urged 
upon  him  by  his  captor.  Dr.  Mangan.  Those  great  and 
special  gifts  of  the  Mangan  family,  the  love  of  music,  and  the 
habit  of  it  (which  are  not  always  allied)  bestowed  upon  the 
household  a  charm  that  was  almost  more  potent  for  Larry 
than  any  other  could  have  been.  At  the  end  of  a  long  day 
of  canvassing,  spent  with  companions  who,  he  felt,  only  half 
trusted  him,  and  were  incapable  of  being  amused  by  the 
things  that  amused  him  (a  factor  in  friendship  that  cannot 
be  valued  too  highly)  it  was  comforting  to  "  drop  in  "  to  the 
hospitable,  untidy  house,  where,  thanks  to  Mrs.  Mangan's 
early  experiences,  there  was  always  good  luck  in  the  pot, 
and  to  spend  a  peaceful  evening  over  the  fire,  smoking,  and 
listening  to  the  famous  Mangan  Quartet.  Music  was  the 
initial  point  of  contact  between  Larry  and  these  people  among 
whom  he  had  once  more  been  cast,  and  the  Big  Doctor  was 
not  unaware  of  the  fact.  Singly,  or  united,  the  Mangan 
voices,  mellow,  tuneful,  singing  songs  of  Ireland  with  artless 
grace  and  charm,  wrought  more  in  Larry's  soul  than  he  was 
aWare  of.  Not  only  to  his  ears,  but  to  his  eyes  also, 
the  Mangan  Quartet  brought  artistic  satisfaction.  The  Big 
Doctor,  with  his  sombre  face  and  overhanging  brow,  looking, 
in  the  lamplight,  like  a  Rembrandt  burgomaster ;  Barty  and 
his  mother,  pale  and  dark-eyed,  recalling  Southern  Italy 
rather  than  Southern  Ireland  ;  and  Tishy — Larry's  eyes 
used  to  dwell  longest  on  Tishy,  her  face  lit  by  her  most 
genuine  feeling,  the  love  of  music,  while  her  voice  of  velvet 
(of  purple  velvet,  he  decided)  mourned  for  Patrick  Sarsfield, 
or  lamented  with  Emer  for  Cuchulain,  or  thrilled  her  listener 
with  the  sudden  glory  of  *'  The  Foggy  Dew."  Larry's 
own  voice  was  habitually  exhausted  by  the  cart -tail  oratory 
in  which  he  daily  expended  it  ;  it  was  enough  for  him  to 
listen  and  look,  shutting  his  mind  to  the  past,  living,  as  ever, 
in  the  present,  like  a  wise  man,  because  its  bounty  sufficed 
him. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

At  a  little  before  this  time  a  sufficiently  epoch-making  scene 
had  taken  place  between  Dr.  Mangan  and  his  daughter, 
following  not  long  on  that  day  when  the  elephant  had  conveyed 
his  captive  to  the  depths  of  the  jungle. 

**  Tishy  !  "  said  the  Big  Doctor,  looming  large  at  the  door 
of  the  dining-room  where  his  daughter  was  engaged  in 
trimming  a  hat,  '*  come  down  to  the  surgery  a  minute  ;  I 
want  you." 

The  feather  to  which  Miss  Mangan  had  just  imparted  the 
correct  "  set,"  was  only  fixed  in  position  with  a  precarious 
pin,  none  the  less,  Tishy,  albeit  vexed,  did  not  delay.  She 
had  a  well-founded  respect  for  the  Fifth  Commandment, 
as  far,  at  all  events,  as  her  father  was  concerned.  She 
abandoned  the  hat,  and  followed  the  Doctor  through  the 
narrow  hall-passage  and  into  the  surgery,  with  a  promptness 
that  she  was  not  wont  to  exhibit  in  obeying  an  order  that 
was  not  convenient. 

Dr.  Mangan  had  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and  was 
writing.  Tishy  stood  by  the  seat  dedicated  to  patients  ; 
she  wished  to  imply  that  she  had  been  interrupted  in  her 
work,  and  that  her  time  was  of  value. 

"  There  now,"  said  Dr.  Mangan,  thumping  the  envelope 
that  he  had  just  closed  and  directed,  on  the  blotting-paper, 
with  his  big  fist,  "  I  want  you  to  run  round  to  Hallinan's 
with  this  for  me." 

"  Is  it  a  hurry  ?  "  asked  Tishy,  unwillingly. 

"  It  is.  It's  to  order  rooms  for  Larry  Coppinger.  He's 
253 


254  MOUNT   MUSIC 

coming  to  stay  in  town  till  the  election's  over.  Sit  down 
there  a  minute." 

Tishy  obeyed,  and  the  Doctor  surveyed  her  attentively. 
The  position  that  is  assigned  to  patients  in  a  doctor's  con- 
sulting room  is  one  that  faces  the  light,  pitilessly,  inescapably  ; 
but  for  Tishy,  this  was  a  negligible  disadvantage.  A  peacock 
butterfly  looks  its  best  in  sunlight,  and  Tishy's  dark  bloom, 
and  intent  eyes  of  luminous  grey,  faced  the  glare  of  October 
sunlight  with  confident  unconcern. 

"  A  right-down  handsome  girl  !  "  he  had  called  her,  to 
himself,  more  than  once  ;  now,  he  thought,  she  had  good 
looks  enough  for  any  man  in  Europe.  It  was  not  his  habit 
to  betray  his  feelings  ;  but  as  he  sat  there,  appraising  her, 
weighing  her  beauty,  as  a  jeweller  might  appraise  some  rich- 
hued  ruby  that  a  kind  fate  had  placed  in  his  hands,  sheer 
pride  in  her  made  him  smile,  and  he  was  hard  put  to  it  to 
keep  up  the  severity  that  he  believed  the  occasion  exacted. 

*'  I've  a  couple  of  things  to  say  to  you,"  he  resumed,  "  and 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I've  no  fancy  for  saying  things 
twice.  I've  seen  Ned  Cloherty  sneaking  about  the  Mall 
very  often  lately — like  as  if  he  was  waiting  for  somebody. 
I'm  not  saying  it's  for  you  or  me  he's  waiting ;  you  might  know 
that  better  than  I  do.  But  he's  no  great  ornament  to  the 
view  there,  or  anywhere  else,  as  far  as  I  can  see  !  " 

Tishy  put  her  strong,  rounded  chin  in  the  air,  and  said, 
*'  I  suppose  other  people  have  a  right  to  use  the  roads  as 
well  as  us  !  " 

The  Doctor  was  glad  that  his  face  was  shadowed,  as  he  noted 
the  arrogant  tilt  of  her  head,  and  the  smooth,  cream-white 
pillar  of  her  neck  that  it  revealed,  since  the  smile  of  paternal 
pride  would  not  be  denied.  He  didn't  blame  Ned  Cloherty 
to  be  sneaking  about  after  her  ;  there  wasn't  her  like  in  the 
county.  But  she  very  certainly  was  too  good  for  the  likes  of  Ned 
Cloherty.  "  Now,  Babsey,"  he  said,  and  Tishey  knew  that 
the  old  pet  name  denoted  a  satisfaction  with  her  that  might  not 
otherwise  betray  itself,  **  you're  a  sensible  girl,  and  I  needn't 
go  out  of  my  way  to  tell  you  things  that  you're  smart  enough 
to  see  for  yourself.  You're  '  pert  enough  without  Latin  ' 
— as  they  say  !  Well,  I'll  just  say  one  other  thing  to  you, 
and  it's  this.  Larry  Coppinger's  up  for  this  election,  and 
I've  told  him  to  use  this  house,  like  his  own,  as  much  as  he 


MOUNT    MUSIC  255 

wants  to,"  the  Doctor  stood  up  and  took  a  pocket-book 
from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat.  "  You're  to  make  it 
agreeable  for  him  to  come  here.  Mind  that  !  And  more 
than  agreeable  !  I'll  think  very  little  of  you  if  you  don't 
have  him  at  your  feet  before  you're  done  with  him  !  "  he  went 
on,  selecting  something  from  among  the  papers  in  the  pocket- 
book  as  he  spoke.  "  There's  not  a  girl  in  Ireland  that 
wouldn't  half  hang  herself  for  the  chance  you'll  have  !  And 
there's  not  a  girl  in  Cluhir  but  will  be  gibeing  you  if  you  lose 
it  !  "  He  took  a  step  towards  where  Tishy  was  sitting,  and 
put  his  hand  under  his  chin. 

Her  bright  water-grey  eyes  were  alight  w4th  mutiny  ; 
she  laughed  defiantly. 

*'  Suppose  I  don't  want  it  !  " 

Her  father  looked  steadily  at  her  ;  he  saw,  as  clearly  as 
if  she  had  spoken,  that  the  suggestion  had  excited  her. 

**  Well,  Babs,"  he  said,  with  the  laugh  that  always  seemed 
an  octave  higher  than  matched  with  his  voice,  "  if  you're 
able  to  bring  him  to  your  feet — and  I'm  not  saying  you  will  1 
You  might  find  it  a  bit  of  a  job  too  ! — you'll  want  a  dandy 
pair  of  shoes  on  them  !     Put  this  in  your  pocket." 

He  had  taken  a  ten-pound  note  out  of  his  pocket-book, 
and  he  pushed  it  into  Tishy 's  strong  and  supple  white  hand. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

Great  pain  paralyses  the  mind,  as  the  torture  of  a  limb 
makes  the  limb  faint  and  helpless.  When  the  heart-pain 
can  be  dealt  with  as  a  separate  thing,  it  is  no  longer  supreme. 

This  was  the  difference  between  Christian  and  Larry. 
Her  love  was  herself,  indivisible,  a  condition  of  her  being. 
When  it  ceased,  it  would  mean  that  the  creature  that  called 
herself  Christian  Talbot-Lowry  had  ceased  also.  During 
the  long,  bright  morning,  after  Larry  and  Dr.  Mangan  had 
departed  together,  she  felt  that  this  had  happened ;  that 
the  part  of  her  that  knew  and  suffered  had  gone  away,  or 
was  lying  dead  in  her.  There  was  a  weight  in  her  breast, 
she  could  feel  it,  but  she  scarcely  felt  pain,  only  a  great 
bewilderment,  an  incredulity  that  this  thing,  of  whose  reality 
her  mind  told  her,  but  without  conviction,  should  have 
happened  to  her,  just  precisely  to  her,  out  of  all  the  people 
in  the  world.  People  have  felt  this  when  that  iron  shutter 
that  is  called  Death  has  fallen  between  them  and  that  one 
who  was  their  share  of  the  world.  A  part  of  them,  some 
plausible  imitation  of  them,  can  speak  and  act,  and  be  extolled, 
perhaps,  for  facing  the  music  stoutly  ;  while  the  stricken 
thing  that  is  themselves,  is  lying  prone  before  the  iron 
shutter  ;  beating  on  it  with  broken  hands,  calling,  and 
hearing  no  answer. 

It  was  nearly  a  month  now  since  Dick  Talbot-Lowry  had 
asserted  his  paternal  rights,  and  had,  following  various  classic 
and  biblical  precedents,  sacrificed  his  daughter  to  his  own 
particular  formulae  of  religion  and  politics.  He  would  never 
know  that  it  had  been  the  appeal  that  weakness  makes  to 
strength  that  had  given  him  his  victory.     When  he  spoke  to 

256 


i 


MOUNT   MUSIC  257 

Lady  Isabel  of  his  scene  with  Larr}%  he  told  her  that  he  had 
nipped  the  thing  in  the  bud.  The  damned  puppy  of  a  fellow 
took  for  granted  that  Christian  was  in  love  with  him  ;  but 
here  she  was,  going  about  as  usual,  as  jolly  as  a  sandboy  ; 
**  in  fact,"  Dick  would  say,  plastering  up  with  bromidic 
mortar  the  windows  of  the  narrow  dwelling  wherein  dwelt 
Lady  Isabel's  soul,  "  all's  well  that  ends  well  !  "  With  which 
valuable  aphorism,  sanctioned  by  a  long  and  respectable  past, 
the  Major  contentedly  fed  his  heart,  and  tranquillised  that 
of  his  wife. 

Judith  was  less  confident  of  the  satisfactory  end  of  all 
things.  She  was,  in  fact,  exceedingly  indignant  that  an 
engagement  so  entirely  advantageous  from  all  practical 
points  of  view  should  be  broken  off;  "simply  to  gratify 
Papa's  imbecile  prejudices  !  "  she  declared,  with  her  usual 
emphasis.  "  Christian,  you  were  a  fool  to  mind  what  he 
said  or  did.  He  wouldn't  have  died  !  Not  a  bit  of  him  ! 
Of  course.  Mother  has  got  to  agree  with  him — that's  what 
he  married  her  for  !  " 

*'  Don't  tire  me,  Judy,  please,"  Christian  would  say, 
serenely.  "  It's  all  over  now.  These  discussions  only 
weary  me.  I  assure  you  my  philosophy  is  quite  equal  to 
the  strain  !  " 

"  If  that's  the  case,  I  don't  know  why  you  should  look  like 
a  dying  ghost  !  " 

Judith  had  never  entirely  comprehended  her  younger 
sister,  and  she  found  her,  as  she  said  with  indignation  to 
the  concurring  Bill,  absolutely  dark  and  inscrutable  over 
the  whole  affair. 

"  I  know  it's  hit  her  hard,  but  nothing  will  make  her  admit 
it.     I  detest  Spartan  Boys  !  "  said  Judith. 

The  Spartan  Boy  in  question,  though  aw^are  of  her  sister's 
ardent  desire  to  investigate  her  wounds,  had  no  intention 
of  removing  the  cloak  that  covered  them.  She  vrrapped  it 
close  about  her,  so  close  that  Lady  Isabel,  while  unable  to 
stifle  a  motherly  regret  for  the  wedding  that  might  have 
been,  thanked  heaven  that  Christian  had  not  "  really  cared  "  ; 
so  close  that  even  Judith  said  that,  since  Christian  had  not 
been  hit  too  hard,  though  she  regretted  the  coup  manque, 
she  personally  found  some  consolation  in  the  fact  that  she 


258  MOUNT    MUSIC 

would  not  be  called  upon  to  make  apologies  for  the  political 
aberrations  of  her  brother-in-law. 

The  polling  day  came,  and  passed  with  but  little  excitement. 

**  You  wouldn't  har'ly  know  it,"  said  a  voter,  who  had 
returned  to  his  normal  avocations  after  a  morning  wasted, 
as  he  considered,  in  the  task  of  recording  his  vote.  "  There 
was  a  few  men  drunk  in  the  town.  Which  won  is  it  ?  Bedad, 
they  dunno  yet.  Father  Sweeny  it  was  marched  in  the 
Pribawn  boys.  Faith,  he  had  them  well  regulated.  Very 
nate  they  marched,  very  nate  entirely.  They  never  were 
in  such  rotation  !  " 

The  voter  bent  melancholy  and  slightly  bloodshot  eyes 
upon  Christian,  and  awaited  her  reply. 

Christian,  with  her  usual  miscellaneous  company  of  dogs, 
was  on  her  way  to  visit  a  woman  whose  husband  had  died 
not  long  before.  Her  way  took  her  along  the  banks  of  the 
Broadwater,  and  during  one  of  the  frequent  pauses, 
necessitated  by  the  investigations  into  the  private  affairs 
of  water-rats  and  others,  made  by  her  companions  she  and 
Peter  Callaghan  had  exchanged  greetings.  He  and  Christian 
had  fallen  into  talk,  with  the  absence  of  formaHty  that  is, 
perhaps,  pecuHar  to  intercourse  between  his  class  and  hers. 
He  leant  upon  his  sc}the,  and  discoursed  seriously  and 
courteously.  He  wore  a  soft,  slouched  black  hat,  that  did 
not  wholly  conceal  his  thick  and  curly  hair,  in  which  there 
was  scarcely  a  grey  strand,  though  he  was,  as  he  told 
Christian,  the  one  age  with  her  father.  His  white  flannel 
jacket  was  wrapped  round  him,  its  skirts  pushed  under  the 
band  of  his  brown  frieze  trousers.  A  red  wisp  of  rag  was 
knotted  round  his  middle,  and  held  all  together.  His  pale 
grey  and  wistful  eyes  looked  at  Christian  from  above  a  tangled 
thicket  of  grizzled  moustache  and  beard.  He  suggested, 
almost  equally,  a  conventional  Saint  Joseph  and  a  stage- 
brigand — a  brigand,  as  it  might  be,  who  had  joined  the 
Salvation  Army.  "  As  old  as  I  am,"  he  returned,  dreamily, 
to  the  affair  of  the  morning,  "  I  stepped  it  away  with  them  !  " 

He  turned  his  eyes  from  Christian's  face  to  the  large  and 
sliding  brightness  of  the  river. 

There  followed  a  moment  of  silence  that  was  filled  by  the 
yelps  of  the  little  dogs  who  had  marked  a  water-rat  to  ground, 
and  the  hobble-de-hoy  shouts  of  the  hound  puppies,  uttered 


MOUNT   MUSIC  259 

with  no  definite  idea  of  the  cause  of  their  enthusiasm,  but 
none  the  less  enthusiastic  for  that  reason. 

"  Are  you  the  youngest  young  lady,  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  " 
Peter  Callaghan  asked  presently.  "  It's  long  since  I  seen 
you.  Your  father  knows  me  well.  I  remember  of  one  time 
when  the  hounds  was  crossing  my  land,  and  I  seen  yourself 
and  your  sisther  taking  the  hur'ls.  I  cries  out  to  ye  '  me, 
heart'd  rise  at  ye,  my  darhns  !  '  and  the  Major,  he  laughs  !  " 

"I  remember  jumping  the  hurdles,"  said  Christian; 
"I'll  tell  my  father  I  met  you." 

"  He  gave  me  permission  to  cut  the  *  looha  '  in  these  fields," 
resumed  Peter  Callaghan.  "I'm  thankful  to  him.  I  have 
a  good  sop  of  it  cut." 

He  waved  a  hand  ;  Christian  saw,  at  a  little  distance,  a 
heap  of  rushes,  and,  seated  on  it,  a  girl,  of  whose  presence  she 
had  been  unaware.  She  was  very  pale,  and  there  was  a 
fixity  of  sadness  about  her.  Christian  spoke  to  her,  but  she 
did  not  appear  to  notice. 

**  She's  my  daughter,"  said  Peter  Callaghan  in  his  quiet 
voice.  "  She  wouldn't  know  it  was  to  her  you  spoke.  She's 
dark,  the  creature.  Blinded  she  is.  She's  not  long  that 
way." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  "  said  Christian,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  You  could  not  say,"  said  Peter  Callaghan  ;  his  dreamy 
eyes  roved  again  over  the  broad  river  ;  "  God  left  a  hand 
on  her,"  he  said. 

Christian  went  on  her  way,  and  the  words  stayed  with  her. 
'  God  left  a  hand  on  her.'  There  had  been  no  resentment 
in  the  father's  voice,  only  a  profound  and  noble  gravity. 

**  And  here  am  I,"  thought  Christian,  "  ^ngry  and 
whimpering " 

Mrs.  James  Barry  lived  a  mile  or  so  farther  down  the  river. 
Christian  gathered  up  her  pack  of  terriers,  hound  puppies, 
and  red  setters,  with  the  farm  collie  to  complete  its  absurdity, 
and  walked  fast.  October  was  just  ending  ;  the  willows 
along  the  river-bank  were  yellow,  the  reeds  in  the  ditches 
that  ran  beneath  each  fence  were  greying  and  withering. 
The  successive  profiles  of  wood  and  hill,  down  the  valley  of 
the  river  went  from  orange  and  brown  to  a  reddish  purple, 
until,  in  the  large  serenity  of  the  autunrn  evening,  they 
softened  to  the  universal  blue  of  distance. 


26o  MOUNT   MUSIC 

Mrs.  Barry's  farm-house  stood  a  little  back  from  the  river. 
A  stream  that  widened  to  a  pond,  and  narrowed  again  to  a 
stream,  divided  the  house  from  the  fields  that  ran  between 
it  and  the  river  ;  the  decent  thatched  roofs  and  whitewashed 
walls  of  the  farm,  and  the  elm  trees  that  grew  beside  it,  were 
mirrored  in  the  pond.  A  flotilla  of  geese  and  ducks  paraded, 
in  stately  fatuity,  to  and  fro  across  the  mirror.  A  battered 
little  wooden  bridge,  painted  green,  enabled  the  people  of 
the  farm  to  reach  the  banks  of  the  river.  Christian  crossed 
it,  and  went  up  to  the  open  door  of  the  house. 

In  the  kitchen  a  red-haired  woman  was  seated,  rocking  a 
wooden  cradle  with  her  foot  while  she  stitched  at  a  child's 
frock.  Hens,  with  their  alert  and  affected  reserve  of  manner, 
stepped  in  and  out  of  the  doorway,  sometimes  slowly,  with 
poised  claw,  sometimes  headlong,  with  greedy  speed. 
Christian  watched  them  and  the  hound  puppies  (in  whose 
power  of  resistance  to  temptation  she  had  no  confidence), 
while  she  talked  to  the  woman  of  the  house,  and  heard  the 
story  of  her  trouble. 

Her  husband  had  been  "  above  in  the  hospital  at  Rivers- 
town.  He  was  in  it  with  a  fortnight,"  said  the  red-haired 
woman  in  the  idiom  of  her  district,  the  noise  of  the  rocker 
of  the  cradle  on  the  earthen  floor  beating  through  her  words  ; 
**  he  had  a  bunch,  like,  undher  his  chin,  and  they  were  to 
cut  it."  She  paused,  and  the  wooden  bump  of  the  cradle 
filled  the  pause. 

*'  When  they  had  it  cut,  he  rose  up  on  the  table,  and  all 
his  blood  went  from  him  ;  only  one  little  tint,  I  suppose, 
stopped  in  him.  Afther  a  while,  the  nurse  seen  the  life 
creeping  back  in  him.  *  We  have  him  yet  !  '  says  she  to  the 
Docthor.  '  I  thought  he  was  gone  from  us  !  '  says  the 
Docthor."  The  voice  ceased  again.  The  speaker  slashed 
the  frock  in  her  hand  at  an  over-bold  hen,  who  had  skipped 
on  to  the  table  beside  her  and  was  pecking  hard  and  sharp 
at  some  food  on  a  plate. 

"  They  sent  him  home  then.  We  thought  he  was  cured 
entirely.  He  pulled  out  the  summer,  but  he  had  that  langer- 
some  way  with  him  through  all." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  then  she  looked  at  Christian, 
with  grief,  crowned  and  omnipotent,  on  her  tragic  brow. 

**  As  long  as  he  was  alive,  I  had  courage  in  spite  of  all. 


iMOUNT   MUSIC  261 

but  when  I  thinks  now  of  them  days,  and  the  courage  I  had, 
it  goes  through  me  !  "  Her  red-brown  eyes  stared  through 
the  open  door  at  the  path  twisting  across  the  field  to  the  high 
road. 

"  Ye'll  never  see  him  on  that  road  again,  and  when  I  looks 
up  it  me  heart  gets  dark.  Sure,  now  when  he's  gone,  I 
thinks  often  if  he'd  be  lyin'  par'lysed  above  in  the  bed,  I'd 
be  runnin'  about  happy  !  " 

When  Christian  went  home  Mrs.  Barry  walked  with  her 
to  the  little  green  bridge,  and  stood  there  until  her  visitor 
reached  the  bend  of  the  river  where  the  path  passed  from  her 
sight. 

At  the  turning  Christian  looked  back  and  saw  the  lonely 
figure  standing  at  the  bridge-head,  and  again  she  said  to 
herself :    "  Here  am  I,  angry  and  whimpering  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

Doctor  Mangan  told  himself  that  he  had  never  laid  out  a 
ten-pound  note  to  better  advantage  than  the  one  he  had 
pushed  into  the  heel  of  Tishy's  fist.  It  had,  as  he  thought 
it  would,  clinched  the  matter.  He  had  never  been  unaware 
of  the  menace  of  Cloherty,  R.A.M.C,  but  he  was  confident 
in  the  three  forces  that  he  had  at  his  command — authority, 
bribery,   and   propinquity. 

"  If  I  know  my  young  lady,"  he  said  cheerfully  to  himself, 
"  she'll  think  more  of  Larry  at  her  elbow,  than  of  that  foxy 
devil  back  at  Riverstown  "  (which  was  the  present  scene  of 
Captain  Cloherty's  professional  labours).  "  And  what's 
more,  if  Tishy  will  only  give  her  mind  to  it,  it'll  take  a  stiffer 
lad  than  Master  Larry  to  be  man  enough  for  her  !  She 
downed  him  once,  and  she'll  do  it  again,  m  spite  of  Christian 
Lowry  !  " 

Even  as  the  Big  Doctor  thought,  there  were  many  more 
that  fought  for  him  in  this  matter  than  against  him.  Potent 
had  been  his  suggestion  to  his  daughter  that  there  wasn't  a 
girl  in  Cluhir  that  wouldn't  "  be  gibeing  at  her  "  if  she  lost 
so  golden  an  opportunity,  nor  one  that  would  beheve  she  had 
not  half  hanged  herself  to  secure  it.  (And  though  it  has 
not  been  possible  to  include  them  in  this  chronicle,  it  may  be 
accepted  that  there  were  many  girls  in  Cluhir  of  the  lively 
malevolence  of  whose  gibes  Tishy  was  entirely  sensible.) 
Even  more  potent  was  the  pull  of  Larry's  position,  the.  prestige 
of  his  money,  of  his  *'  place,"  of  his  good  looks  ;  most  potent 
of  all,  the  fact  of  his  nearness,  the  mere  primary  fact  that 
he  was  si  young  man,  in  whose  company  she  was  daily  thrown, 

262 


MOUNT    MUSIC  263 

whose  unattached  status  (the  Doctor  had  kept  his  own  counsel 
as  to  that  interview  with  Christian,  and  his  deductions  there- 
from) was  a  continual  challenge  to  her  charms,  whose  mere 
presence  w^as  an  excitement  and  a  stimulus. 

As  the  polling  day  approached,  and  effort  became  more 
strenuous,  Larry  fell  ever  more  gratefully  into  the  habit  of 
No.  6,  The  Mall.  Of  coming  in,  in  the  gloom  of  the  wet 
afternoon,  and  finding  Tishy  mending  her  gloves,  or  stitching 
something  all  lace  and  ribbons,  something  that  would 
obviously  blossom  into  a  **  Sunday  blouse,"  but  that,  with  a 
flash  of  her  grey  eyes,  she  would  tell  him  was  "  poor-clothes," 
that  the  Nuns  had  asked  her  to  make.  Of  sitting  on  the 
big  sofa  beside  her,  and  teasing  her  about  Captain  Cloherty, 
and  the  adventure  in  which  Tinker  took  a  leading  part. 

*'  If  you  go  telhng  tales  to  the  Doctor,  you'll  be  sorry  !  " 

"  How  can  you  make  me  sorry  ?  " 

"  Wait  awhile  and  you'll  find  out  !  There  are  plenty 
ways  to  teach  little  boys  manners  !  Oh,  look  now  what 
you've  done  !  You've  made  me  pull  the  thread  out  o'  me 
needle.     Thread  it  now,  you  !  " 

Then  Larry,  with  his  quick  eye  and  steady  hand,  w^ould 
annoy  her  by  threading  it  as  deftly  as  she  herself  could  have 
done,  would  possibly  contribute  some  enormous  stitches  to  the 
confection,  and,  by  the  time  its  construction  was  seriously 
resumed,  the  collaborators  on  the  big  sofa  would  have 
advanced  a  stage  further  on  the  road  through  the  jungle, 
that  had,  with  so  much  foresight  and  patience,  been  prepared 
for   them. 

Young  Mr.  Coppinger's  hopes  and  fears  as  to  his  prospects 
of  becoming  a  Member  of  Parliament  varied  no  more  than 
was  suitable  in  the  possessor  of  the  artistic  temperament, 
but  Barty,  his  agent  in  chief,  maintained  an  attitude  of 
unbroken  pessimism.  That  whisper  of  the  secret  and  late- 
declared  antagonism  of  the  Church  had  reached  him,  and 
in  the  secure  seclusion  of  his  own  office  he  inveighed  against 
clerical  interference  with  all  the  fierceness  of  a  dog  chained 
in  his  kennel,  who  knows  that  his  adversaries  are  as  unable 
to  touch  him  as  he  is  to  injure  them.  Only,  in  Barty's  case, 
he  was  quite  sure  that  his  barkings  were  unheard,  and  he 
would  have  been  exceedingly  alarmed  had  he  thought  other- 
wise. 


264  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  I  declare  to  God  I  don't  care  what  way  it  goes  !  "  Larry 
had  said  many  times,  but  most  often  when  fatigue  and 
discouragement  had  together  taken  control. 

Such  times  had  come  more  often  during  the  last  week 
before  the  election,  and  they  reached  their  cHmax  on  the 
evening  of  the  polling  day.  The  two  young  men,  mentally 
and  physically  demoralised  by  fatigue,  had  at  length,  at  an 
hour  considerably  past  midnight,  escaped  from  their 
colleagues,  and,  having  gained  the  sanctuary  of  Barty's 
office,  were  drearily  reviewing  the  position  by  the  light  of 
a  smoky  lamp  and  over  the  ashes  of  a  dead  fire  ;  counting 
possible  votes,  making  unconvincing  calculations  based  on 
supposition,  wading  hand-in-hand  ever  deeper  into  the 
Slough  of  Despond. 

"  I  was  talking  to  your  father  this  evening,"  said  Larry, 
lighting  a  cigarette  and  letting  himself  fall  into  an  ancient 
rocking-chair.  "  He  wouldn't  give  me  an  opinion  one  way 
or  the  other,  but  it's  my  belief  he  thinks  it's  a  bad  chance.'* 

*'  I  beheve  he's  done  his  best  for  you,"  said  Barty, 
dubiously  ;  "  but  the  way  he's  situated,  he  doesn't  like  to 
come  out  too  strong  one  way  or  the  other." 

*'  Quite  right  too  ;  I'm  a  rotten  proposition,"  said  Larr}% 
*'  and  this  dam'  cigarette  won't  draw  !  " 

"  I  could  stand  getting  Hcked,"  vv^ent  on  Barty,  too  pre- 
occupied to  consider  the  plaints  of  his  principal, ''  if  I  thought 
the  Clergy  had  played  fair.  Father  Hogan  and  Father 
Sweeney  stood  to  us  well,  and  I  know  Father  Greer  was  for 
you  at  the  first  go-off ;   but  God  knows  what  way  he  and  the 

rest  o'  them  went,  after.     I  wouldn't  trust  them "     His 

dark  and  mournful  eyes  rested  dejectedly  upon  Larry.  "  And 
what's  more,  they  don't  trust  you  !  " 

"  They're  perfectly  right,"  said  Larry  ;  "  shows  their 
sense  !  You  and  I  are  what  Father  Greer  and  the  rest  of 
them  would  consider  rotten  bad  Catholics,  and  I  believe 
they  know  it  !  "  He  got  up  from  the  limping  old  rocking- 
chair,  and  stretched  himself,  with  a  yawn  that  prolonged 
itself  into  a  howl.  *'  Oh  Dark  Rosaleen  ! — or  Kathleen-ni- 
Houlihan — or  anything  else  you  Hke  to  call  yourself — if  you 
only  knew  how  really  and  sincerely  devoted  I  am  to  you  ! 
I  believe  I'm  a  perfectly  single-minded  Irish  patriot,  and 
yet  you  won't  beheve  in  me,  and  no  more  will  any  one  else , 


MOUNT   MUSIC  265 

except  this  bloody  old  fool  of  a  Barty  here  !  Barty  my 
hearty,  I'm  going  to  bed  !  I'm  done  !  Don't  wake  me  till 
the  news  comes  in — "  He  gave  vent  to  another  heart- 
broken yawn. 

"  Well,  for  God's  sake  stop  howling  like  a  banshee,  and 
go  !  "  replied  the  hard-pressed  Barty,  "  I'm  about  done 
myself !  " 

The  opening  Meet  of  the  Broadwater  Vale  Kounds  chanced 
to  take  place  at  Cluhir  Bridge,  on  the  day  after  the  election. 
Larry,  finishing  a  late  breakfast  at  Hallinan's  Hotel,  heard 
the  beloved  sounds  of  the  hunt,  the  pistol-cracks  of  the 
whips,  the  clatter  of  horse-hoofs,  the  jingle  of  bits,  and  the 
steady  paddling  of  hounds'  feet  in  the  muddy  street.  Joined 
with  these  was  the  clamour  of  the  town  curs  and  the  thunder 
of  the  following  rush  of  town  boys  along  Cluhir's  narrow 
pavements.  Larry  ran  to  the  window,  and  opening  it, 
found  himself  practically  face  to  face  with  young  Georgy 
Talbot-Lowry,  riding  a  horse  of  Bill  Kirby's. 

The  sight  of  the  hounds  drove  from  his  mind  the  resolve 
to  have  no  dealings  more  with  the  house  of  Talbot-Lowry. 

"  Hullo,  Georgy  !  "  he  shouted  :  "  I  didn't  know  you 
were  home " 

Georgy  gave  a  quick  look  at  the  window,  and  directed  his 
gaze  between  his  horse's  ears  ;  save  that  his  face  had  turned 
as  red  as  his  coat,  there  was  nothing,  as  he  jogged  on,  to 
indicate  that  he  had  either  seen  or  heard. 

Larry  banged  down  the  window,  in  a  state  of  conflagration, 
every  strained  nerve  vibrating.  What  need  to  attempt  to 
recount  what  he  said  or  thought  ?  Dark  Rosaleen  has  made 
trouble  often  enough  between  nearer  and  dearer  than  Larry 
and  his  young  cousin.  She  will  send  brothers  to  fight  each 
other  to  the  changing  music  of  her  harp,  crowned  and 
uncrowned  ;  she  will  gather  her  sons  under  the  sign  of 
the  Cross,  and  encourage  them  to  hate  one  another  for  the 
love  of  God.  This  was  only  a  trivial  bit  of  mischief  hardly 
worthy  of  our  attention,  were  it  not  that  it  had  its  share  in 
the  macadamising  of  that  jungle  road  in  which,  as  is  frequent 
in  such  routes,  the  preliminary  labour  had  been  undertaken 
by  an  elephant,  under  the  direction  of  a  skilful  mahout. 

It  was  dark  when  the  news  came  to  Cluhir,  six  o'clock  of 
a  wet  night.    The  counting  of  the  votes  had  taken  place 


266  MOUNT    MUSIC 

elsewhere,  and  the  word  was  to  come  by  wire.  Barty  and 
Larry,  with  others  of  the  rival  **  Commy-tees,"  had  hung 
about  between  the  post-office,  and  their  respective  offices, 
and  houses  of  call,  all  day.  Many  drinks  had  been  drunk, 
many  bets  been  laid  ;  before  the  news  came  through,  Larry's 
proclaimed  indifference  as  to  the  result  had  worn  so  thin 
as  to  be  imperceptible.  It  seemed  to  him,  during  the  tedious 
hours  of  that  dark  and  wet  afternoon,  that  success  in  this 
enterprise  was  the  only  thing  left  in  life  worth  having.  To 
triumph,  secretly,  over  that  secret  clerical  opposition,  to 
snap  his  fingers,  openly,  at  Georgy  Talbot-Lowry's 
impudence  and  all  that  it  implied  of  hostihty  and  contempt. 
These  were  the  great  objects  of  life,  the  things  that  justified 
all  the  double  dealing,  and  the  hes,  and  the  humbug  of  the 
past  weeks.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  patriotism,  and 
ideals  were  rot.  He  had  claimed  last  night  to  be  a  single- 
minded  patriot,  but  to-day  he  knew  better  ;  he  had  become 
a  man,  and  had  put  ideals  away,  with  love,  and  other  childish 
things.  The  main  thing  was  to  have  your  desire  of  your 
enemy. 

He  was  standing  in  the  heavy  downpour  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  group  that  waited  outside  the  post-office  ;  he  was 
sick  with  suspense  and  fatigue,  and  hardly  troubled  to  move 
as  a  motor  came  slowly  nosing  its  way  through  the  crowd. 
It  passed  within  a  few  inches  of  him  and  stopped.  He 
heard  the  Big  Doctor's  voice. 

*'  Get  into  the  car  out  of  the  rain,"  it  commanded.  "  D'ye 
want  to  be  ill  on  my  hands  again  ?  I'll  run  you  down  to 
No.  6.  Let  Barty  'phone  the  news  to  you.  Isn't  that  what 
he's  for  }  " 

Larry  was  alone  in  the  dining-room  of  No.  6  when  the 
telephone  summoned  him.  He  had  eaten  nothing  since 
breakfast  ;  his  hand  shook  with  cold  and  excitement,  and  he 
could  scarcely  hold  the  switch  firmly. 

"  Burke,  1,047  ;  Coppinger,  705  !  "  Barty's  voice  sounded 
flat  and  without  emotion.  "  Majority  against  us,  342.  Can 
you  hear  }  Adverse  majority,  342  !  They've  beaten  us 
to  babby-rags  !  "     The  voice  ceased. 

Larry  said  :  "  All  right,  old  chap.  Thanks  !  "  and  hung 
up  the  receiver. 

He  returned  to  the  dirty,  comfortable  old  sofa  by  the  fire. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  267 

Beaten  !  and  Larry  was  used  to  victory.  In  all  his  twenty- 
five  years  of  life,  he  had  never  been  thwarted.  What  he 
wished  to  do,  that  he  did,  in  games,  in  sport,  in  art.  He 
might  have  said,  with  Beatrice  :  "  There  was  a  star  danced 
and  under  that  was  I  bom  !  " 

The  first  defeat  he  could  remember  was  the  one  he  had 
suffered  at  Christian's  hands,  and  here  he  was,  turned  down 
again,  twice  in  a  month  ! 

**  My  luck's  out  !  "  he  said,  staring  at  the  flickering, 
whispering  fire,  and  feehng  that  ebbing  of  life  which  will 
befall,  even  at  five  and  twenty,  when  exhaustion,  that  has 
been  held  at  bay  by  excitement  and  hope,  comes  to  its  own. 

The  door  burst  open,  and  Tishy  came  swiftly  into  the 
room. 

'*  I've  just  heard  !  "  she  said.  **  Dad  got  it  on  the  other 
'phone.  It's  a  wicked  shame  and  a  disgrace  !  That's  what 
it  is  !  "  Her  voice  was  hot  with  wrath  and  sympathy  ;  she 
flung  across  the  room  and  caught  Larry's  hand  and  shook  it 
vehemently.  '*  The  fools  !  "  she  cried,  furiously.  "  You 
were  too  good  for  them,  that's  what  it  was  !  The  dirty, 
low,  common — Oh,  there's  no  words  bad  enough  for  them  !  " 
Her  eyes  blazed  ;  she  looked  exceedingly  handsome.  She 
was  moved  by  a  perfectly  genuine  emotion  of  indignation  ; 
Larry  was  Mangan  property,  and  it  was  not  fitting  that  the 
leading  family  of  Cluhir  should  be  defeated. 

*'  You  look  half  dead  this  minute  !  "  she  cried,  pushing 
him  down  on  to  the  sofa  by  the  hand  that  she  had  taken 
**  Sit  down  for  gracious  sake  !  " 

Again  the  door  opened,  and  from  without  the  Doctor's 
deep  voice  said  : 

**  Tishy  !     Come  here  a  minute,  I  want  you." 

Larry,  sitting  on  the  sofa,  watching  his  wet  boots  steaming, 
was  conscious  of  a  sense  of  consolation.  It  was  something 
to  know  that  these  kind  people  cared.  He  heard  the  light 
chink  of  glasses,  and  looked  round,  and  saw  Tishy  coming 
into  the  room,  bearing  a  tray,  on  which  were  a  cake,  and  wine- 
glasses, and  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

"Dad  says  he  prescribes  a  little  stimulant  !  "  said  Tishy, 
gaily,  **  the  wire's  cut " 

She  took  the  cork  out  of  the  bottle  with  a  strong,  capable 
hand,  and  filled  two  glasses.     '*  Drink  that  at  once  now  1 


268  MOUNT    MUSIC 

And  I'll  drink  one  drop  myself — just  for  luck  !  Here  now  '. 
Here's  to  the  next  time,  and  you  at  the  top  of  the  poll  !  '* 

'*  Sounds  as  if  I  were  a  bear  !  "  said  Larry,  with  a  pale 
smile  at  her,  as  he  lifted  the  glass,  "  Clink  !  "  He  touched 
her  glass,  and  then  drank  the  wine  thirstily. 

*'  I  was  just  about  cooked,"  he  said  apologetically. 
"  Awfully  good  of  you  and  the  Doctor '* 

"Ah,  don't  be  talking  nonsense!"  interrupted  Tishy. 
"  Here,  show  me  your  glass " 

The  glasses  were  very  large  and  old  fashioned  ;  she 
refilled  his,  brimmingly.  "  Now,  sit  down,  and  drink  that, 
and  eat  a  bit  of  cake.  Not  a  word  out  of  you  now  !  Only 
do  as  you're  told  !  " 

Then,  as  he  obeyed  her,  she  suddenly  knelt  beside  him, 
and  before  he  realised  what  she  was  doing  she  began  to 
unlace  his  boots.     Larry  started  up,  horrified  and  protesting. 

"  Sit  down  at  once  and  be  good  !  "  said  Tishy,  holding 
firmly  to  the  foot  on  which  she  had  begun  operations,  and 
with  a  vigorous  jerk  compelhng  him  to  obedience.  "  I'll 
do  what  I  choose,  I  always  do  !  " 

Her  nimble,  white  fingers  made  short  work  of  the  task 
that  she  had  set  herself ;  Larry's  remonstrances  availed  him 
nothing.  She  had  insisted  on  refilling  his  glass  a  third  time, 
and  the  wine  had  begun  to  take  away  from  him  the  feeling 
of  reality,  and  to  make  everything  seem  hazy  and  indefinite, 
but  quite  agreeable. 

*'  There  now  !  "  said  Tishy,  pushing  the  boots  under  the 
sofa,  *'  aren't  you  obliged  to  me  ?  I  often  did  that  for  the 
Doctor,  but  I  never  saw  such  lovely  green  silk  socks  on  hiniy 
I  can  tell  you  !  " 

The  champagne  had  made  her  eyes  ver}'  bright  ;  there 
was  a  look  in  them  that  spoke  to  a  dim  memory  in  Larry^'s 
cloudy  mind.  She  was  still  kneeling  beside  him,  and  as 
she  prepared  to  rise,  she  rested  one  hand  on  his  knee 
to  help  herself.  Larry  put  his  hand  on  hers,  and  leaned 
forward.  Her  brilHant,  challenging  face  was  very  near  his. 
His  memory  cleared  in  a  flash,  and  he  thought  of  the  night, 
long  ago,  when  they  had  played  at  forfeits. 

*'  *  My  shoe  buckle  or  my  lips  '  }  Do  you  remember  ?  " 
he  said,  with  an  unsteady  laugh,  answering  the  challenge. 
**  It's  my  turn  now — ^which  will  you  have  ?  " 


MOUNT    MUSIC  269 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  looking  straight  into 
her  eyes,  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  laughing,  red  lips. 

The  situation  had  not  materially  changed  when  Dr. 
Mangan's  large  presence  was  suddenly  developed  at  the  end 
of  the  sofa.  He  had  come  noiselessly  in,  and  was  surveying 
his  daughter  and  guest  with  a  benedictory  smile. 

"  So  that's  the  way,  is  it  ?  "  he  said  quietly. 

The  hot  dream  that  held  Larry,  melted  and  reeled  a  little. 
He  released  Tishy  from  his  enfolding  arms,  and  wondered 
if  he  had  better  risk  standing  up.  He  wished  old  Mangan 
hadn't  coine  bothering  in.  He  had  only  just  begun  to  find 
out  how  much  he  liked  Tishy. 

But  he  stood  up,  and  met  the  Doctor's  smile  with  a  guilty 
and  foolish  grin,  holding  on  with  one  hand  to  the  end  of  the 
sofa.  Tishy  continued  to  hold  his  other  hand  ;  he  felt  as 
if  he  should  fall  if  she  relinquished  it. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  may  draw  my  own  conclusions  from 
what  I  see  ?  "  went  on  the  Big  Doctor,  in  a  voice  that  oozed 
fatherhness  at  every  syllable.     "  Eh,  Larry  ?  " 

Larry  svN'ayed  a  little  ;  his  yellow  hair  was  ruffled,  his  blue 
eyes  shone,  he  looked  like  a  child  who  had  just  been 
awakened. 

*'  Oh  quite  so,  sir,"  he  said  laughing.  "  Apparently 
it's  the  only  thing  to  do  !  "  which  was  indisputable. 

The  bottle  of  champagne  which  had  played  its  part  so 
ably  was  finished  later  on,  and  the  engagement  was  ratified 
and  celebrated  with  the  pomp  that  was  its  due. 


CH.^TER   XXXVII 

Miss  Letitia  Mangan  was  a  young  woman  of  dauntless 
courage,  who,  as  has  been  said  of  the  sect  spoken  of  by 
detractors  as  The  Black  Prozbytarians,  feared  r'leither 
God  nor  divil.  To  thi:  rule  there  were,  however,  in 
Tishy's  case,  two  exceptions  admitted,  and  of  these,  one 
was  her  father,  the  other  Father  Greer.  If,  therefore, 
during  the  days  that  followed,  when  the  streets  of  Cluhir 
were,  as  it  were,  mined  with  congratulations  that  exploded 
round  her  wherever  and  whenever  she  went  abroad,  any 
shade  of  doubt,  any  tenuous  memory  of  the  foxy  devil  back 
in  Riverstown  assailed  her,  she  made  haste  to  banish  such 
with  the  thoughts  of  Father  Greer's  pontifical  approval, 
and  of  the  warmth  of  the  paternal  sunshine  that  now  shone 
upon  her  and  h^r  fiance. 

Cluhir  said  that  it  was  a  very  nice  engagement,  and  a  great 
match  ;  there  were  not  wanting  those  who  said  also  that  it 
was  wonderful  promotion  for  that  Tishy  Mangan.  A  tactless 
ex-charwoman  had  even  referred  to  young  Mr.  Coppinger 
as  being  Miss  Mangan 's  **up-raiser,"  and  having  enquired, 
with  incredulity,  of  Mrs.  Mangan  ('*  and  this  before  a  crowd 
in  Egan's  shop,  if  you  please  !  "  as  Mrs.  Mangan  reported) 
''  Ma'am  !  are  they  in  bonds  ?  "  she  had  so  fervently  thanked 
God  on  hearing  that  such  was  the  case,  that  Mrs.  Mangan 
said  she  could  never  enter  Egan's  again  without  she'd 
feel  they  were  all  laughing  at  her ! 

Of  the  fiance  and  of  his  frame  of  mind,  what  shall  be  said  } 
He,  at  all  events,  said  as  little  to  himself  as  was  possible, 
but,  in  the  circumstances,  it  was  no  more  than  could  be 
expected  that  a  lively  fancy  would  not  wholly  be  denied,  and 

270 


i 


MOUNT   MUSIC  271 

that  occasional  vagrant  visions  would  present  themselves 
uninvited.  He  pictured  to  himself  a  meeting  with  Christian, 
all  in  the  clouds,  of  course  ;  he  told  himself  he  had  no  wish 
to  meet  her,  nor,  if  he  did,  was  he  at  all  likely  to  discuss  the 
matter  with  her  ;  still  he  thought  that  he  would  rather 
enjoy  telling  her  that  he  had  acknowledged  his  engagement 
with  Tishy,  to  Tishy's  father,  in  the  very  same  words  in 
which  she.  Christian,  had  broken  hers  with  him.  They  had 
somehow  stuck  in  his  head.  He  would  tell  her  that.  He 
had  certainly  been  rather  screwed  (but  that  there  would  be 
no  necessity  to  mention)  ;  it  was  just  a  curious  chance  that 
he  should  have  used  them.  He  dramatised  the  interview 
in  his  mind.  It  would  serve  Christian  right  ;  it  would  be 
a  rather  jolly  instance  of  retributive  justice — only  he  wished 
that  the  Christian  whom  he  visualised  was  not  always  that 
shadowed,  ethereal  Christian  whom  he  had  painted,  with, 
as  Rossetti  said,  the  wonder  not  yet  quite  gone  from  that 
still  look  of  hers.  Bother  Rossetti,  anyway  !  What  did 
it  matter  what  he  said  ?  The  main  point  was  what  Larry 
himself  had  said,  and  the  result  was  that  he  was  engaged  to 
Tishy  Mangan,  solidly  and  seriously. 

There  was  nothing  fatiguingly  ethereal  about  Tishy  anyhow ; 
she  was  just  about  as  good-looking  a  girl  as  he  had  ever  met 
in  his  life.  He  would  take  her  to  Paris  some  day,  and  would 
see  what  his  pals  would  say  to  her.  He  thought  there 
wouldn't  be  two  opinions  about  her  there.  He  and  she 
would  travel  about  a  bit.  He  didn't  feel  as  if  he  would  care 
about  settling  down  at  Coppinger's  Court  at  once.  Any- 
how he  would  have  to  fix  up  about  Aunt  Freddy.  She 
hadn't  written  him  much  of  a  letter  about  his  engagement  : 
she  seemed  to  like  it  just  about  as  well  as  she  had  liked  his 
excursion  into  politics. 

"  Of  course  Tishy's  a  Papist  !  "  he  thought,  mockingly, 
accounting  to  himself  for  the  chill  of  the  congratulations. 
"  That's  enough  for  Aunt  Freddy  !  But,  hang  it  all,  so  am 
I  !  She  ought  to  see  how  suitable  it  is  !  I'd  like  to  lay  on 
Father  Greer  to  talk  to  her  !  " 

There  is  no  need  to  attempt  to  record  in  detail  the  comments 
of  the  voider  circle  of  Larry's  acquaintances,  but  it  may  be 
said  that  his  friends  of  all  ranks  had  one  point  in  common, 
a  sincere  admiration  for  Dr.  Mangan.     Bill  Kirby,  who  had 


272  MOUNT   MUSIC 

supported  him  politically,  now  fell  away  from  him.  Judith 
had  not  refrained  from  admitting  him  to  the  secret  which 
she  had  extracted  from  her  younger  sister,  and  Bill's  references 
to  young  Mr.  Coppinger  and  to  Doctor,  Mrs.,  and  Miss 
Mangan,  would  have  been  very  helpful  to  those  ladies,  of 
whom  there  were  many,  who  took  the  matter  to  heart. 

The  unpopularity  of  the  engagement  was  considerably 
aggravated  by  the  extreme  magnificence  of  the  furs,  presented 
by  the  bridegroom  elect  to  his  fiaiicee,  and  worn  by  her  at  a 
meet  of  the  hounds,  which  she  attended  in  her  father's  mctor. 

It  might  have  been  some  consolation  to  the  neighbourhood, 
had  it  known  that  those  grey  furs  had  been  of  the  nature  of 
a  peace-offering,  after  a  rather  acute  difference  of  opinion 
on  that  point  of  settling  down  at  Coppinger's  Court  as  opposed 
to  going  abroad.  Larry  had  shelved  it  for  the  present, 
and  had,  as  he  told  himself,  made  good  by  the  dint  of  the 
furs.  That  had  come  out  all  right,  but  now,  Larry,  mounted 
on  Joker,  and  led  in  chains  at  Tishy's  motor-wheel,  found 
that  among  his  former  allies  of  the  hunt  things  were  not  as 
they  once  had  been,  and  was  not  pleased.  Singularly  enough, 
Judith  alone  was  faithful  found  among  the  faithless.  She 
declared  that  Larry  had  been  brutally  and  idiotically  treated, 
and  that  this  engagement  was  the  result,  and  justified  all 
that  she  had  been  saying  for  many  past  ages.  When  Larry 
appeared  at  the  Meet,  his  scalp-lock  prominent  among  Miss 
Mangan 's  furs,  Judith  alone  of  his  former  intimates  met 
him  with  cordiality,  condoled  with  him  over  his  election 
defeat  with  sympathy,  and  congratulated  him  on  his 
engagement  with  decorum. 

"  I  felt  it  was  only  decent,"  she  said  later,  to  the  friend 
to  whom  she  complacently  recounted  her  effort,  "  after  he 
had  been  kicked  downstairs  by  Papa,  and  booted  out  of  the 
house  by  Christian,  quite  without  justification.  I  con- 
gratulated him  warmly  !  I  absolutely  rode  up  to  the  gorgeous 
Tishy  and  said  civil  things  there  too  !  " 

"  It  was  perfectly  angehc  of  you  !  "  said  the  friend. 

"  Quite  the  reverse,  my  dear  !  "  said  Judith,  proudly. 
**  But  you  see  Bill  has  the  hounds,  and  anyhow,  I  like  to 
prepare  for  all  contingencies  !  " 

For  the  rest,  a  chilly  neutraHty  reigned  at  the  Meet.  Larry 
was  finding  his  official  position  of  captive  decidedly  irksome. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  273 

He  wished  that  Tishy  would  not  call  him  by  his  name  every 
time  she  spoke  to  him  ;  that  she  would  not  speak  so  loud  ; 
that  this  eternal  jog  to  the  covert  would  end  before  the  Day 
of  Judgment  ;  finally,  that  he  had  stayed  at  home.  He  saw 
the  red-headed  Cloherty,  and,  failing  more  congenial  society, 
joined  him.  But  the  red-headed  Cloherty  was  crosser 
than  any  of  them,  and  what  the  devil  was  it  to  him  what 
Larry's  politics  or  his  matrimonial  intentions  were  ? 
Confound  Cloherty,  anyway  !  He  was  a  sufficiently  common 
object  of  the  Cluhir  scene — and  infernally  common  at  that. 
Hardly  a  day  that  you  didn't  meet  him  loafing  about  the 
town.  Larry  hadn't  the  smallest  wish  to  talk  to  Cloherty. 
When,  some  brief  time  before  the  Day  of  Judgment,  they 
reached  the  covert,  it  was  drawn  blank,  and  Bill  Kirby  took 
quite  a  month  to  get  the  hounds  out.  Hunting  rabbits,  of 
course.  Larry  never  knew  them  so  out  of  hand.  And  then 
another  rotten  jog  along  the  road  to  the  next  draw.  Why 
on  earth  couldn't  Bill  get  into  the  country  and  let  them  have 
a  school  at  least,  and  get  away  from  these  damned  motors  ? 
He  was  hoarse  from  shouting  replies  to  Tishy's  airy  nothings, 
all  winged  with  his  name,  and  all,  he  felt,  addressed  as  much 
to  the  pubHc  as  to  him.  She  looked  stunning,  of  course, 
and  he  was  glad  he  had  given  her  those  furs,  but  three  miles 
trying  to  keep  a  suspicious  fool  of  a  horse  up  to  the  elbow 
of  a  car  roaring  along  at  half  speed,  was ! 

It  matters  not  what  Larry  thought  it  was,  the  point  is  that 
Tishy  thought  it  wasn't,  and,  suddenly  realising  his  views, 
turned  in  one  of  those  instantaneous  furies  of  hers,  to  the 
cavalier  at  the  other  elbow  of  the  car,  who  happened  to  be 
the  red-headed  Cloherty. 

Larry,  neglected,  fell  back,  and  presently  found  himself 
beside  an  old  friend,  Father  David  Hogan,  the  priest  of 
Riverstown.  It  was  nearly  ten  years  since  the  great  days 
of  Father  David's  black  mare  ;  she  had  passed  into  legend, 
and  Father  David,  something  heavier  than  he  was  but  no 
less  keen,  now  followed  hounds  in  more  leisurely  fashion 
on  the  back  of  the  black  mare's  son,  a  portly  and  careful  bay 
cob. 

"  Fm  very  pleased  to  see  you  out,  Mr.  Coppinger,"  Father 
David  began,  the  kindly  little  blue  eyes,  twinkling  deep  in 
his  red   face,    confirming   the    assurance   imparted   by   his 


274  MOUNT   MUSIC 

extensive    smile,  that   his    friendship   was    still   unshaken, 
"  You've  been  missing  some  nice  hunts." 

'*  I've  been  too  hard  worked  to  get  out,  Father," 
apologised  Larry. 

"  Ah,  otherwise  engaged,  maybe  ?  "  said  Father  David, 
with  a  facetious  stress  on  the  word  engaged.  "  I  was  greatly 
put  out  over  the  election,"  he  continued.  "  Tell  me  now, 
why  didn't  the  Unionists  support  you  ?  I  noticed  that  our 
worthy  M.F.H.  came  to  record  his  vote,  but  your  cousin, 
the  late  M.F.H. ,  was,  as  they  say,  conspicuous  by  his 
absence.'* 

"  He's  quite  an  invalid  now,"  said  Larry  shortly. 

*'  Indeed  ?  Indeed  ?  And  is  that  the  case  ?  I'm  grieved 
to  hear  it  !  "  Father  David  pressed  the  stout  cob  nearer 
to  Joker,  and  murmured  very  confidentially.  *'  I've  known 
you  since  your  boyhood  I  may  say,  Mr.  Coppinger,  and 
you  will  not  consider  me  impertinent  speaking  to  you.  But 
could  you  tell  me  is  it  a  fact  what  I'm  hearing  about  the  good 
Major — you,  no  doubt,  have  prior  information " 

*'  I  think  that's  very  unHkely,"  said  Larry,  sulkily,  flushing 
as  he  spoke. 

Father  David  eyed  Larry  cautiously,  and  began  to  wonder 
if  something  he  had  been  told  not  long  since  were  true. 

In  Ireland,  it  may  confidently  be  said,  all  things  are  known 
to  the  poor  people,  and  a  brief  consideration  of  this  position 
will  show,  that  this  being  so,  there  is  but  Kttle  that  is  unknown 
to  the  Church. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Coppinger,"  Father  Hogan  resumed,  "  I'm 
told — only  told,  mind  you — that  the  Major  had  Mount  Music 
and  the  demesne  advertissed  on  the  English  papers " 

"  Good  God  !  "  exclaimed  Larry,  startled  out  of  his  sulk  ; 
"  to  sell  ?  " 

Father  David,  Hke  other  gentlemen  of  his  age  and  cloth, 
had  the  Baboo's  predilection  for  a  well-worn  quotation.  "  As 
to  that  I  cannot  say,"  he  said  portentously.  "  *  'Tis  whispered 
in  Heaven,  'tis  muttered  in   Hell '  that  the  encumbrances 

are    very    heavy — mortgages    and    debts .     The    good 

Major  had  a  long  family  Mr.  Coppinger  ;  fine,  dashing 
young  min  they  are  too,  but  we  all  know  that  expenses  do 
not  tend  to  diminish  as  families  grow  up  !  Children  may 
be  a  heritage  that  comes  from  the  Lord,  but  unless  other 


MOUNT    MUSIC  275 

heritages    accompany  them ! "     Father    David    put    his 

head  on  one  side,   and,   beaming   at  Larry,  laid  his   httle 
professional  joke,  so  to  speak,  at  his  feet. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  resumed,  "  '  What  business  is  it  of 
yours  ?  '  says  you  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  Father/'  said  Larry,  still  shaken  by  what  he 
had  heard.  "  Thank  you  for  speaking  to  me — it's  the  first 
I've  heard  of  it." 

The  procession  of  the  hunt  halted,  the  hounds  left  the  road 
by  the  direct  method  of  a  high  stone  "  gap,"  and  Father 
David  and  the  bay  cob  melted  away,  to  betake  themselves 
to  those  secret  equivalent  routes  known  to  those  who  have 
come  to  years  of  discretion  in  the  hunting-field. 

The  second  draw  seemed  at  first  as  if  it  were  to  be  no  more 
fortunate  than  its  predecessor.  The  covert  was  a  patch  of 
scrubby  woodland  at  a  little  distance  below  the  road,  at  the 
head  of  one  of  the  long  deep  glens  that  were  the  terrors  of 
the  Broadwater  country.  The  wind  blew  from  the  v.est, 
across  the  wdde  cleft  of  Gloun  Kieraun,  and  the  hounds  were 
thrown  into  the  wood  in  which  the  upper  end  of  the  glen 
was  masked,  and  were  encouraged  to  work  downwards. 
An  unaccustomed  wave  of  misanthropy  had  assailed  Larry, 
and  instead  of  following  with  the  crowd  the  course  of  the 
hounds,  he  moved  onwards  along  the  road,  scarcely  consider- 
ing where  he  was  going.  He  was  thinking  with  consternation 
of  what  Father  Hogan  had  told  him.  Larry  was  not  of  those 
who  nurse  their  wrath  to  keep  it  warm,  and  the  thought  of 
Dick's  misfortunes  swept  away  the  recollection  of  his  insults. 
Joker  had,  of  his  own  initiative,  soon  turned  aside  from  the 
high  road  into  a  grassy  lane,  and  he  moved  along  it  in  the 
relentless  manner  in  which  many  horses  will  decHne  to  stand 
still  while  Larry,  deep  in  thought,  allowed  the  reins  to  lie 
on  the  horse's  neck  while  he  lit  a  cigarette  and  tried  to  fix 
in  his  memor}'  Father  David's  exact  words.  He  thought 
he  would  talk  to  Dr.  Mangan  about  it.  Things  might  be 
better  than  the  old  priest  thought.  From  the  thought 
of  the  doctor  his  mind  passed  on  to  that  of  his  wedding. 
Was  it  possible  that  he  was  to  be  married  next  week  ?  A 
distinct  physical  drop  of  the  heart  accompanied  the  realisation, 
*'  Nerves  !  "  he  told  himself,  and  hurried  on  to  reflect  upon 
his  bride.      She  certainly  looked  stunning  in  those  grey  furs; 


276  MOUNT   MUSIC 

he  was  glad  he  had  given  them  to  her;  she  knocked  spots 
off  any  other  girl  in  the  country.  He  impressed  this  thought 
on  his  mind.  And  she  had  sung  jolly  well  last  night,  and 
had  accompanied  him  quite  decently.  They  would  get 
on  all  right  once  they  were  married.  She  had  been  a  bit 
edgey  these  last  few  days,  but — some  under-self  warned 
him  off  the  pursuit  of  this  topic.  He  began  to  formulate 
excuses  for  her  that  inculpated  himself.  Larry  **  came  of 
a  gentle  kind,"  and  had  the  generous  temper  that  finds  it 
easier  to  bear  than  to  ascribe  blame. 

A  note  of  the  horn  was  wafted  sweetly  across  the  glen, 
and  he  came  to  the  surface  of  his  thoughts.  By  Jove  ! 
Where  had  Joker  got  him  to  ?  The  lane  they  had  wandered 
down  ran  parallel  with  Gloun  Kieraun,  and  a  gap  in  the  fence 
on  his  left  made  him  aware  that  he  was  now  moving  abreast 
with  the  hunt,  but  was  divided  from  his  fellows  by  the  chasm 
of  the  glen. 

A  second  touch  of  the  horn  came  ;  Larry  checked  his 
horse  ;  Bill  Kirby  had  seen  him  and  was  shouting  to  him. 

"  Head  him  back  if  he  breaks  your  side  !  I  want  him 
this   way  !  " 

All  jolly  fine  for  old  Bill,  but  where  did  young  Mr. 
Coppinger  come  in  ?  He  held  up  his  hand  to  show  he  had 
heard,  and  stood  still. 

One  hound  spoke,  sharply,  in  the  depths  of  the  woody 
glen.  Another  and  another  joined  in.  In  a  moment,  the 
echoing  glen  was  full  of  voices  ;  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
what  was  happening.  A  couple  and  a  half  emerged  on  the 
farther  side  in  the  heather  above  the  trees,  working  a  line 
upwards,  and  speaking  to  it  as  they  went.  Larry  sav/  the 
Master  force  his  horse  down  near  them,  and  heard  him 
cheering  them  and  doubling  his  horn.  Another  couple 
joined  them,  and  Larry  swore  heartily.  Here  he  was  on 
the  wrong  side,  and  the  fox  away  to  the  east  !  The  cry 
redoubled  ;  it  sounded  as  if  twice  the  pack  were  engaged, 
yet  the  two  and  a  half  couple  were  not  being  reinforced. 
By  some  chance  Larry  withdrew  his  eyes  from  them,  and 
just  then,  about  a  hundred  yards  further  on,  on  his  side  of 
the  glen,  something  like  a  brown  feather  floated  up  into 
view. 

"  A  second  fox,  by  the  living  Jingo  !  "  whispered  Larry, 


MOUNT    MUSIC  277 

thrilling  to  that  sight  that  never  fails  to  thrill. 

He  held  up  his  hat.  Bill  saw  the  signal,  and  acknowledged 
it  by  redoubled  efforts  to  get  the  hounds  away  with  the  fox 
that  had  broken  to  the  east.  The  chorus  of  sound  grew  and 
grew,  and  as  Joker  and  his  rider,  tense  with  an  equal  excite- 
ment, listened,  it  became  plain  that  the  cry  was  drawing 
nearer  to  them.  Joker's  sensitive  ears  were  twitching,  his 
heart  thumped  ;  the  storm  of  sound  was  just  below  them 
now,  and  then,  hound  by  hound,  Larry  counted  them  as 
they  came,  fourteen  couples  struggled  up  over  the  lip  of  the 
glen  where  that  brown  feather  had  so  lightly  lifted  into  view, 
and  drove  ahead,  on  the  way  it  had  gone,  with  a  rush  and  a 
cry  that  Larry  could  no  more  have  checked  than  he  could 
have  stemmed  and  driven  back  the  wild  stream  in  the  glen 
below. 

It  may  be  said  at  once  that  he  made  no  such  futile  effort. 
With  a  single  glance  at  the  frenzied  party  on  the  farther  side, 
already  galloping  distractedly  for  a  possible  pass  lower 
down  the  glen,  Larry  released  his  feelings  in  a  maniac  howl 
to  the  fleeting  pack,  and  let  Joker — who  had  already  stood 
up  on  his  hind  legs  twice,  in  legitimate  protest — follow 
them. 

The  fox,  having  begun  by  running  west,  away  from  the 
glen,  had  then  turned  right-handed,  and  was  heading  north 
over  the  mountain  whose  lower  slopes  were  cleft  by  Glounkie- 
raun.  The  scent  served  well  ;  the  gurgling  music,  with 
now  and  then  a  sharper  note,  like  a  fife  among  flutes  and 
'cellos,  flowed  on,  and  Larry  and  Joker,  two  happy  creatures, 
the  world  forgetting  (though  by  no  means  by  their  world 
forgot)  galloped  and  rejoiced. 

The  little  mountain  sheep  with  their  black,  speckled  faces 
sprang  before  them,  quick  as  rabbits  ;  green  plover  flopped 
up  from  the  grassy  places,  wheeling  and  squealing  ;  a  wood- 
cock whirred  out  of  a  furze  bush  so  near  Larry  that  he 
could  have  struck  it  down  with  his  crop.  Long-legged 
mountain  hares  fled  right  and  left  of  the  driving  pack,  un- 
heeded. Great  spaces  of  the  mountain  were  bare  of  fences, 
but  in  those  tracts  where  the  grass  had  mastered  the  heather, 
it  was  "  striped  "  with  broad  banks,  sound,  and  springy, 
and  bound,  as  with  wire,  by  the  heather  roots.  To  feel 
Joker  quicken  his  big  stride  and  leap  at  the  banks  out  of  his 


278  MOUNT   MUSIC 

gallop,  to  realise  the  perfect  precision  of  his  method,  as  he 
changed  feet  and  flicked  off  into  the  next  field,  to  race  him 
at  the  walls  of  smooth  round  stones,  weathered  in  the  long 
centuries,  and  grey  with  lichen,  and  to  know  that  if  they 
were  three  times  their  height  Joker  would  have  sailed  over 
them  with  the  same  ease — whatever  might  have  been  Larry's 
burden  of  care,  it  would  have  fallen  from  him,  forgotten, 
in  the  pure  glory  of  that  ride. 

The  hounds  ran  hard  for  nearly  a  half  hour  before  they 
checked,  and  Larry  bethought  him  of  those  unfortunates 
between  whom  and  himself  that  great  gulf  had  been  fixed. 
Apparently  they  had  not  found,  any  more  than  the  rich  man  in 
the  parable,  a  means  of  crossing  it.  He  was  high  above  the 
valley  ;  the  splendid  landscape  lay  in  broad  undulating  ribbons 
of  brown  and  green  and  amethyst  and  blue,  with  the  Broadwater 
dividing  it — a  silver  belt,  with  a  band  of  green  on  its  either 
side  ;  but  within  the  great  circle  that  was  spread  beneath 
his  eyes  were  none  of  those  toihng  specks  that  tell  of  a  Hunt 
in  labour.  The  check  was  brief ;  the  hurrying  hounds, 
busy  as  ants,  cast  themselves  right  and  left  and  forward, 
combining  in  fussy  groups,  that  would  suddenly  disintegrate 
as  if  by  an  access  of  centrifugal  force  ;  crowding  each  other 
jealously  along  the  top  of  a  bank,  flopping  into  the  patches 
of  bog,  snuffing  greedily  at  the  orange  stems  of  the  bracken. 
Soon,  reiterated  squeals  from  a  leading  lady  told  that  the 
clue  was  found  again,  and  they  began  to  run,  hard  as  before, 
but  downwards  this  time,  as  though  the  fox  despaired  of 
finding  refuge  among  the  high  places  of  heather  and  rock. 
Larry  had  lost  his  bearings  ;  his  eyes  on  the  hounds,  his 
thoughts  on  his  horse,  he  had  not  even  tried  to  place  himself. 
But  as  the  hounds  ran  on,  south  and  w^est,  he  began  to 
recognise  famihar  features.  Away  there  to  the  south,  surely 
were  the  trees  of  Coppinger's  Court  ;  could  it  be  the  Mount 
Music  earths  for  which  the  fox  was  heading  }  The  hounds 
were  running  now  down  hill,  through  crisp,  upland  meadows. 
Farmhouses  began  to  reappear,  thatched  and  whitewashed, 
tucked  snugly  in  among  low  bunches  of  trees  ;  fences  were 
changing  in  character  ;  the  amber  streams  ran  less  fiercely, 
and  found  time  to  loiter  in  pools  and  quiet  reaches.  The 
hounds  had  begun  to  hunt  more  slowly,  and  Larry  looked 
at  his  watch. 


MOUNT    MUSIC  279 

"  Forty-five  minutes  since  they  left  the  glen  !  Bill's  just 
about  mad  enough  for  the  asylum  by  this  time  !  "  he  thought. 
'*  If  we  could  only  catch  this  lad  !  " 

But  this  particular  "  lad  "  was  not  to  gratify  young  Mr. 
Coppinger  by  dyings  classically,  in  the  open,  "  on  the  top 
of  the  ground."  Five  minutes  after  Larry  had  taken  the 
time  he  took  it  again,  this  time  at  the  mouth  of  one  of  many 
holes  in  a  sandpit,  w^herein,  as  was  announced  by  a  country- 
boy,  "  the  lad  "  had  saved  himself,  with  "  the  dogs  snapping 
at  his  tail." 

"He  earned  it  w^ell,"  said  Larry, ungrudgingly, even  though 
the  mask  that  was  to  have  hung  so  carelessly  from  his  saddle 
was  panting  deep  and  safe  in  the  sandpit,  listening  warily 
for  a  possible  eviction  notice  from  the  hunt-terrier  (left,  alas, 
hunting  rabbits  in  the  heart  of  Gloun  Kieraun)  thanking 
its  own  wits  for  the  recollection  of  the  city  of  refuge. 

"  Ye're  on  the  lands  of  Finnahy  now,"  said  the  boy.  "  Folly 
on  that  way  down,  and  ye '11  meet  the  road.  That's  the  near 
way." 

**  Come  on,  you,  and  show  it  to  me,"  said  Larry. 

Amazing  were  the  ramifications  of  the  near  way.  The 
bed  of  a  stream  had  a  share,  and  a  well-trodden  path  along 
the  wide  top  of  a  bank  ;  a  brace  of  wheels  had  to  be  trundled 
out  of  one  gap,  a  toothless  harrow  dragged  from  another. 
Then  they  were  on  heather  again. 

"  Carry  on  now,"  said  the  guide,  "  and  ye'll  meet  a  pat — " 

Larry  needed  no  more  leading  ;  he  was  on  the  hill  above 
Mount  Music,  Cnocan  an  Ceoil  Sidhe,  and  the  "  pat  "  that 
was  to  meet  him  was  the  narrow  track  that  led  by  the  Druid 
Stone  and  the  Well  of  the  Fairies. 

The  December  afternoon  wss  darkening  to  its  close ; 
the  sun  had  made  its  farewell  appearance,  coming  forth  for 
a  moment,  a  half-circle  of  clear  flame,  above  the  long  grey 
cloud  that  barred  the  head  of  the  valley.  Larry  rode  past 
the  great  grey  stone,  and  hardly  turned  his  eyes  toward  it. 
The  hounds,  trooping  meekly  round  his  horse,  went  aside 
to  the  well,  and  drank  long  and  thirstily.  He  did  not  wait 
for  them.  He  put  from  his  mind  the  memory  of  the  last 
time  he  had  seen  from  that  hill-side  the  sun  go  down.  Rather 
he  set  his  thoughts,  resolutely,  on  that  other  last  time,  in 
the  Hbrary  of  Mount  Music.    And  he  called  up  Tishy's 


28o  MOUNT   MUSIC 

brilliant  face,  framed  in  the  furs  that  he  had  given  her,  that 
it  might  help  him  to  drive  away  other  memories.  He  was 
very  fond  of  Tishy,  he  told  himself ;  anyway,  he  was  booked 
to  marry  her  next  week. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

The  small  town  of  Cluhir,  ever  avid,  as  are  all  small  towns, 
of  sensation,  was,  did  it  only  know  it,  about  to  enjoy  a  week 
that  would  long  be  remembered  in  its  history.  Miss 
Mangan's  marriage,  which  alone  would  have  made  an  epoch, 
was  fixed  for  Thursday,  December  12th  ;  but  this,  it  need 
scarcely  be  said,  was  a  matter  that,  though  soul-stirring, 
was  devoid  of  the  element  of  surprise.  Not  so,  however, 
was  the  sudden  evacuation  of  Mount  Music.  Father  Hogan's 
indefinite  information  was  as  much  as  was  generally  known, 
but  much  that  was  not  generally  known  was  confided  to 
the  discreet  ears  of  Father  Greer,  and  he,  almost  alone  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Cluhir,  was  not  surprised  when  the  news 
went  abroad  that  the  Mount  Music  carriage  had  conveyed 
Major  Dick  and  Lady  Isabel  to  the  station,  and  that  so  vast 
a  mass  of  luggage  had  accompanied  them  as  to  betoken  a 
prolonged  absence. 

That  the  news  should,  in  the  first  instance,  have  been 
communicated  to  Father  Greer  by  Dr.  Mangan,  was  not 
remarkable,  since  Dr.  Mangan's  professional  advice  had 
usefully  reinforced  his  unofficial  advocacy  of  the  move,  and 
Father  Greer  was  rarely  ignorant  for  long  of  matters  that  were 
found  interesting  by  the  Big  Doctor. 

Not  merely  for  the  sake  of  Major  Talbot-Lowry's  health 
had  this  upheaval  taken  place  ;  an  even  more  imperious 
factor  had  been  the  state  of  the  family  finances.  The  cloud 
of  debt  that  had  so  long  brooded  over  Mount  Music  was 
lower  and  darker  than  ever  it  had  been  before.  Dick  had 
at^Uength  been    coerced  into  opening  negotiations  for  the 

281 


282  MOUNT   MUSIC 

sale  of  his  property  to  his  tenants,  but  although,  in  the  fullness 
of  time,  these  might  be  expected  to  bear  fruit,  they  were  of 
no  more  immediate  assistance  to  this  over-weighted  surv^ivor 
of  a  prehistoric  species,  than  is  the  suggestion  to  a  horse  to 
live   in  order  that  he  may  get  oats. 

There  was  pressure  in  the  air  over  Mount  Music.  Trades- 
men, whose  suffering  had  been  as  long  as  their  bills,  began 
to  turn,  in  what  had  seemed  like  the  sleep  of  exhaustion, 
and  to  talk  about  soHcitors'  letters.  Even  Dr.  Mangan  had 
surprised  and  pained  his  friend,  the  Major,  by  forgetting 
his  wonted  delicate  reticence,  and  hinting,  with  what  struck 
Dick  as  singularly  doubtful  taste,  at  a  repayment  of  those 
loans  that  he  had  volunteered,  offering  as  an  excuse  for  doing 
so  the  expenses  consequent  on  his  daughter's  marriage. 
In  addition  to  these  irritations,  Major  Talbot-Lowry  had 
received  what  he  justly  considered  to  be  very  annoying  letters 
from  a  firm  of  Dublin  solicitors,  in  connection  with  various 
charges  and  mortgages  on  the  Mount  Music  property,  which 
so  they  informed  him,  had  been  "  acquired  "  by  them  for 
"  a  client,"  and  were  now  to  be  called  in.  Alternatively, 
it  was  suggested,  an  arrangement  might  be  proposed,  whereby 
the  house  and  dem.esne  of  Mount  Music  might  be  accepted 
in  settlement  of  the  sums  in  question.  The  firm  had  been 
in  communication  with  another  creditor.  Dr.  Mangan  of 
Cluhir,  and  it  was  hoped  that  all  Major  Talbot-Lowry's 
liabilities  might  be  arranged  for  by  the  method  they  suggested. 

Dick  Talbot-Lowry  received  this  announcement  with  the 
mixture  of  indignation  and  contempt  that  might  have  been 
anticipated  from  an  old-established  Pterodactyl,  who  has 
been  warned  that  his  hereditary  wallow  in  the  Primeval  Ooze 
is  about  to  be  wrested  from  him.  Having  expressed  these 
sentiments  in  suitable  language,  he  said,  Hghtly,  that  Fairfax 
must  raise  as  much  on  the  property  as  would  keep  these 
Dublin  sharks  quiet,  and  in  the  meantime  he  would  shut 
up  the  house  at  once  and  go  to  London .  Temporary  retrench 
ment  was  all  that  was  required.  He  would  let  the  place. 
Some  rich  Englishman  would  jump  at  the  chance 

Major  Dick  had  that  optimism  about  his  own  affairs  that 
is  often  combined  with  a  tranquil  pessimism  about  the  affairs 
of  others.  He  said  that  all  he  wanted  was  to  get  clear  of 
the  blood-sucking  swarm  of  hangers-on  that  infested  the 


MOUNT    MUSIC  283 

place.  He  wondered  at  his  own  folly  in  having  endured 
them  for  so  long.  And  it  would  do  Christian  good  to  get 
away.  She  had  been  looking  rather  pulled  down — she  missed 
the  hunting,  of  course.  London  would  do  her  good — would 
be  a  change. 

This,  approximately,  was  what  Dick  said.  What  Lady 
Isabel  said,  being  an  attenuated  echo  of  Dick's  observations, 
is  negligible.  What  Christian  said  was  known  only  to 
Rinka,  the  eldest  of  the  fox  terriers,  who  had  a  habit  of  sitting 
in  the  chair  at  which  Christian  knelt  to  say  her  prayers,  and 
would  then,  with  her  bland  and  balmy  smile,  extort  con- 
fidences denied  to  any  other  living  creature. 

On  Christian  fell  the  brunt  of  the  arrangements,  the 
decisions,  worst  of  all,  the  dismissals.  The  house  (pending 
the  materialisation  of  the  Rich  Englishman)  was  to  be  shut 
up,  so  also  were  all  external  departments,  with  their  workers, 
most  of  whom  Christian  had  known  from  her  childhood  ; 
it  was  her  hand  that  had  to  cut  the  knot  of  these  old  friend- 
ships. Her  father  and  mother  had  preceded  her,  and  she 
was  left,  alone  in  the  big,  old  house,  with  old  Evans,  and 
his  down-trodden  old  wife,  to  be  her  ministers,  with  Rinka 
to  be  her  companion,  and  with  the  obliteration  of  her  past 
life  to  be  her  task. 

An  immense  fire  of  logs  and  turf  blazed  in  the  hall  fireplace, 
a  funeral  pyre,  on  which  Christian  cast  one  basketful  after 
another  of  letters,  papers,  ball-cards,  hunt  cards,  pamphlets, 
old  school-room  books,  stray  numbers  of  magazines,  all  the 
accumulated  rubbish  that  life,  like  the  leader  in  a  paper- 
chase,  strews  in  its  trail  ;  all  valueless,  yet  all  steeped  in  the 
precious  scent  of  past  happiness,  of  good  times  that  were 
over  and  done  with.  She  spent  those  short,  dark  days  in 
desolation  and  destruction,  and  Rinka  trotted  after  her,  up 
and  downstairs,  in  and  out  of  the  shuttered  bedrooms,  and 
the  gaunt,  curtainless,  carpetless  rooms  downstairs,  wondering 
what  it  all  portended,  vowing,  in  her  little  faithful,  cunning 
heart,  not  to  let  Christian  out  of  her  sight  for  a  single  instant. 

The  darkness  and  shortness  of  the  days  was  intensified 
by  the  onslaught  of  a  great  storm  ;  one  of  those  giant  over- 
whelmings  when  it  seems  that  the  canopy  of  heaven  is  being 
crushed  down  upon  one's  own  Httle  corner  of  this  earth, 
and  that  all  the  winds  and  all  the  waters  of  the  universe  are 


284  MOUNT    MUSIC 

gathered  beneath  it  to  annihilate  one  insignificant  segment 
of  the  world.  On  Monday  morning,  Christian  saw  her 
father  and  mother  start,  top  agitated  by  their  coming  journey 
to  have  a  spare  thought  for  sentiment  ;  too  much  beset  by 
the  fear  of  what  they  might  lose,  their  keys,  their  sandwiches, 
their  dressing-boxes,  to  shed  a  tear  for  what  they  were  losing, 
and  had  lost.  And  on  Monday  afternoon  with  the  early  dark- 
ness the  storm  began.  There  came  first  a  little  run  of  wind 
round  the  house,  like  a  cavalry  patrol  spying  out  the  land.  There 
followed  complete  stillness  ;  then  a  few  scattered  drops  of 
rain  fell,  and  ceased  ;  and  then,  with  a  hea\^',  travelling  roar, 
the  wind  came  rushing  up  the  valley.  It  thundered  in  the 
cavernous  chimneys  of  Mount  Music  ;  it  bawled  and  whooped 
at  the  windows,  and  shook  them  with  a  human  fury,  as  though 
it  were  life  or  death  to  it  to  get  in,  as  though  it  were  maddened 
by  the  failure  of  its  surprise  attack.  Christian  and  her 
ancient  servitors  ran  from  room  to  room,  barring  shutters, 
fastening  doors,  the  draughts  down  the  long  passages  snatch- 
ing at  the  candle  flames,  the  old  man  and  woman  full  of 
forebodings  and  of  reminiscences  of  former  storms,  that 
came  to  Christian  in  broken  scraps,  through  the  rattle  of 
windows  and  the  shaking  clatter  of  doors  within  the  house, 
and  the  shrieking  rage  of  the  wind  outside.  She  sat  up 
late,  sorting  and  arranging  things  in  her  room.  She  had 
none  of  the  fears  that  might,  for  another,  have  filled  the 
empty  house  with  visitants  from  another  world,  and  might 
have  taught  her  to  listen  for  footsteps  in  the  echoing  passages 
and  knocks  on  the  shaking  doors.  She  had  always  lived 
on  the  borderland,  and  was  naturalised  in  both  spheres, 
but  to-night,  the  voices  that  had  so  often  given  her  help,  were, 
when  she  most  needed  help,  silent. 

"  I  have  nothing  left  now,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but 
memories,  hungering  memories " 

She  was  to  leave  Mount  Music  on  Wednesday,  and  on 
Thursday,  Larry  was  to  be  married  to  Tishy  Mangan.  What 
room  was  there  for  phantom  fears  when  these  things  were 
certainties  }  What  spectre  from  the  other  world  has  power  to 
break  a  heart  ? 

Deep  in  the  night  there  was  a  lull,  a  strange  moment  of 
arrest,  that  endured  for  scarcely  as  long  as  that  one  could 
count  ten,  and  then,  with  the  returning  tempest,  the  rain 


MOUNT    MUSIC  285 

that  had  been  pent  behind  it,  was  hurled  upon  the  world. 
All  that  night,  and  all  the  following  day,  the  rain  was  like  a 
wall  about  the  house.  It  was  flung  in  masses  against  the 
windows,  as  buckets  of  water  are  flung  on  a  deck.  To  look 
forth  was  as  though  one  looked  through  a  dense  sheet  of 
moving  ice.  Gutters,  eave-shoots,  tanks,  overflowed.  The 
sorely-tried  roof  was  mastered,  and  in  all  its  angles  and 
valleys  yielded  entrance  to  the  enemy.  Up  in  the  top  story 
hurrying  drips  beat,  like  metronomes,  all  the  tempi,  from  a 
ponderous  adagio  to  a  racing  prestissimo.  Buckets  and  jugs 
and  baths  filled,  and  were  emptied,  and  filled  again,  the  old 
Evans  pair  waddhng  to  and  fro,  elated,  almost  gratified,  by 
the  magnitude  of  their  task.  And  in  the  middle  of  the 
uproar,  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  new  sound  joined  in  the 
chorus  of  the  storm,  the  coarse  and  ugly  summons  of  a  motor- 
horn.  Old  Evans  spied  at  the  car  through  the  hall  window^ 
and  contrived  to  signal  a  command  to  go  round  to  the  back 
of  the  house. 

*'  If  I  let  dhraw  the  bohs,"  he  said  to  Barty  Mangan  at 
the  kitchen  entrance,  "  the  door  would  fall  flat  on  me  !  " 

'*  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  at  all,"  Barty  repHed.  *'  Hardly 
I  could  force  the  car  into  the  storm." 

Christian  was  sitting  on  the  floor  by  the  fireplace  in  the 
hall,  in  the  last  of  the  daylight,  examining  and  burning  the 
contents  of  a  drawer  full  of  miscellaneous  papers,  as  the 
visitor  made  his  unexpected  entrance  from  the  back,  and 
Barty,  recognising  his  own  improbability  and  unsuitabiHty 
on  such  a  day  and  at  such  a  time,  fell  to  confused  apologies 
that  were  as  incoherent,  and  seemed  as  unlikely  ever  to  end, 
as  the  buzzing  of  an  imprisoned  bee  on  the  window-pane. 
The  fact  at  length,  however,  emerged,  that  there  was  a  map 
of  the  Mount  Music  estate  hanging  in  the  library,  and  that 
the  Major  having  promised  to  lend  it  to  Dr.  Mangan,  had 
forgotten  to  do  so 

"  Some  question  of  boundaries — a  little  grazing  form 
m'  fawther  has "  Barty  said,  nervously. 

The  map  was  found,  was  rolled,  and  wrapped  up,  and 
yet  Barty  sat  on.  He  talked  incessantly,  feverishly.  He 
talked  so  fast,  in  his  low  voice,  that,  in  the  clamour  of 
the  storm.  Christian  could  only  distinguish  an  occasional 
word.     She  had  a  nightmare  feeling  as  if  a  train  were  roaring 


^86  MOUNT   MUSIC 

through  an  endless  tunnel,  and  that  she  and  Barty  were  the 
sole  passengers,  and  would  never  see  daylight  or  know  quiet 
again.  His  long,  lean  body  was  hooped  into  a  very  low 
and  deep  armchair,  his  thin  hands  clasped  his  knees  ;  his 
immense  dark  eyes,  fixed  on  Christian's  face,  gave  her  the 
impression  that  what  he  was  saying  was  without  relation  to 
what  he  was  thinking.  In  the  direful  gloom  of  the  hall,  with 
the  rain  and  wind  threshing  on  the  half-shuttered  windows, 
and  the  inconstant  light  of  the  burning  logs  the  sole  illuminant, 
his  pale  face,  with  the  wing  of  black  hair  on  his  forehead, 
looked  like  the  face  of  a  strayed  occupant  of  another  sphere 
who  had  resumed  such  an  aspect  as  he  had  worn  in  his  coffin. 
"  Ireland's  a  queer  old  place  just  now,  Miss  Christian," 
Barty  hurried  on.  "  Everything's  changing  hands,  and 
everyone's  changing  sides.  You  don't  know  what'U  happen 
next!" 

*'  I  wish  I  were  not  changing  sides  too,''  said  Christian, 
catching  at  a  sentence,  in  a  momentary  lull  of  the  roaring  in 
the  chimney.  "  Sides  of  the  Channel,  I  mean — I  prefer 
this  side  !  " 

"  Do    you  ?     Do    you  ?  "    said    Barty,    intensely.     "  I'm 
glad  you  do  !     I  feel  often  as  if  no  one  cared  for  this  miserable 
country    except  for  what  they  could  get  out  of  it  !     At  th 
election  it  would   have  sickened  you,   the  bargaining,  and 
the  humbugging,  and  the  lies.     Larry  was  the  only  man  that 

ran  straight,  and  they  jockeyed  him " 

"  I'm  sure  jow  ran  straight,"  said  Christian,  with  sympathy 
in  her  voice.  Piercing  her  weariness  and  preoccupation 
was  the  feehng  that  he  had  something  to  say  that  lay  under 
this  babble  of  conversation.  He  was  wrapping  himself  in 
a  cloak  of  verbiage,  but  above  the  cloak  his  tormented  eyes 
met  hers,  and  the  pain  in  them  hurt  her. 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  I  only  ran  after  Larry.  I  thought  it  was  a 
shabby  thing  of  the  Unionists  not  to  have  supported  him — " 
he  stopped  abruptly,  remembering  Major  Talbot-Lowry's 
abstention,  remembering  also  the  feud,  of  which  he  knew 
only  that  he  had  never  wholly  divined  its  origin,  between 
Coppinger's  Court  and  Mount  Music.  He  cursed  himself 
for  a  fool.  He  had  not  meant  to  talk  poHtics,  but  what  he 
had  come  through  the  storm  to  say  was  so  difficult.  He 
looked   at  Christian  with  agony.     Had  she  minded  what  he 


MOUNT    MUSIC  287 

said  about  the  Unionists  ?  He  began  to  talk  again,  very  fast 
and  incoherently. 

"  Miss  Christian,  I  said  awhile  ago  everj^thing  was  changing 
in  Ireland.  There's  big  changes  coming,  even  hereabouts, 
things  I  couldn't  believe  would  ever  happen.  I've  recently 
learned  a — a  fact — a  statement  that  I'm  not  at  liberty  to 
repeat.     I  was — I  may  say  that  I  was  shocked — but  Miss 

Christian "  the  agony  in  his  eyes  was  in  his  voice.     "  Oh  ! 

Miss  Christian,  for  God's  sake,  believe  that  I  knew  nothing 
of  it  till  this  day  !  " 

He  stood  up,  steadying  himself  with  a  hand  on  one  of  the 
high  marble  pillars  of  the  mantelpiece. 

*'  Knew  nothing  of  what  ?  "  said  Christian,  thinking  she 
had  mistaken  what  he  had  said. 

"  I  can't  tell  you — you'll  know  soon  enough — only  I'm  just 
asking  you  to  beheve  that  I  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  it  !  " 

Christian  had  risen,  and  was  standing  up  ;  he  came  a 
step  nearer. 

*'  I  just  want  you  to  understand.  Miss  Christian,  that  in 
this  world  there  is  no  one  I  regard  like  you — no  one,  nor 
ever  was,  nor  ever  will  be — but  don't  mind  that,  I  only  want 
to  say  that  if  there  is  anything  in  this  earthly  w^orld  that  it's 
in  my  power  to  do  for  you,  or  that  I  could  help  you  in  anny 
shape  or  form,  you  will  be  showing  the  kindness  and  mercy 
of  God  if  you  will  let  me  do  it  for  you." 

He  was  trembling,  and  his  voice  shook,  but  his  nervousness 
was  gone.  "  The  kindness  and  mercy  of  God  !  "  he  said 
again.  "  I  would  feel  it  to  be  that — oh,  God  !  I  would  !  " 
The  tortured  spirit  in  his  eyes  had  given  place  to  another 
spirit,  whose  emotion  Christian  could  neither  mistake  nor 
respond  to,  yet  its  kinship  with  the  immutable  fidelity  that 
was  in  her  heart  made  an  appeal  that  she  could  not  refuse. 

"  Be  sure  I  will  ask  you,"  she  said,  with  the  pity  that  her 
own  heart-loneliness  had  taught  her  in  her  voice.  "  I 
can't  understand  what  it  is  that  you  think  may  happen  ; 

it  seems  to  me  as  if "     She  broke  off,  held  by  the  thought 

that  disaster  could  hardly  have  another  arrow  in  its  quiver 
for  her.  "  You  may  be  sure  if  I  think  you  can  help  me,  I 
will  ask  you.  I  know  I  could  rely  on  you,"  she  said,  pushing 
back  her  own  trouble,  meeting  his  wild  eyes  with  hers,  stead- 
fast and  compassionate. 


188  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"I'm    more    than    thankful — grateful — you've    only    to 

speak "  he  stumbled  and  stammered  with  words  that 

were  all  inadequate  to  his  feeling.  *'  I  won't  detain  you  ; 
I'm  taking  your  time  too  long  as  it  is — and  I'll  have  a  job  to 
get  home  too,  the  river's  rising  every  minute,  and  so  is  the 
storm "     He  somehow  talked  himself  out  of  the  room. 

Christian  returned  to  her  work  of  destruction.  The 
situation  in  general  had  not  been  made  easier  for  her  by 
Barty's  tragic  offer  of  assistance  in  some  mysterious  and 
advancing  stress,  or  by  the  certainty  that  she  tried  to  shake, 
but  could  not,  of  what  his  eyes  had  said  to  her. 

But  Barty,  as  he  drove  home  through  the  storm,  felt  himself 
to  be  a  new  man,  consecrate  and  apart,  ennobled  by  her 
promise  to  rely  on  him,  glorified  by  her  look  ;  and  thanked 
God  that,  when  the  trouble  came,  she  would  remember 
that  he  had  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

The  storm,  and  the  preparations  for  the  wedding,  raged  on 
with  almost  equal  violence,  within  and  without  the  walls  of 
No.  6,  The  Mall.  From  the  moment  that  daylight  began 
on  the  fateful  Wednesday,  the  day  before  the  wedding,  and 
until  it  ceased,  Mrs.  Mangan's  face  recurred  at  the  window 
of  the  dining  room,  full  of  protest,  primarily  against  the 
arbiter  of  the  weather,  who  had  sent  so  supreme  a  hindrance 
to  all  her  preparations,  secondarily,  against  the  shops  of 
Cluhir,  whose  dilatoriness  in  matters  of  the  highest  importance 
*'  had  her,"  so  she  affirmed  frequently,  "  that  much  distracted, 
that  it  would  be  a  comfort  and  a  consolation  to  her  if  she 
were  stretched  cold  in  her  grave." 

At  intervals  during  the  feverish  day,  beings  would  come 
rushing  through  the  torrents,  like  trout  in  a  swirling  brook, 
and  would  ffing  themselves  and  their  parcels  in  through  the 
door  that  Mrs.  Mangan  was  generally  ready  to  open  for  them. 
Frantic  messages  from  bridesmaids  about  their  costumes, 
belated  wedding  presents,  all  the  surf  and  foam  that  is  flung 
up  by  the  waves  of  a  wedding,  broke  upon  No.  6.  The 
bride  elect,  pale  and  preoccupied,  ("  pale,"  that  is  to  say, 
"  for  Tishy,"  as  one  of  her  compeers  observed,  "  flushed 
for  any  one  else  !  ")  wrote  notes,  and  exhibited  presents, 
and  packed  clothes,  and  rode  the  tempest  with  a  fortitude 
that  was  worthy  of  the  Big  Doctor's  daughter.  But  even 
Tishy  began  to  fail  as  darkness  drew  in. 

"  I  can't  stand  this  house  any  more,"  she  said  to  her  mother, 
**  rain  or  no  rain,  I'm  going  out  !  I  didn't  see  Mrs.  Whelply 
about  Kathleen's  wreath  that  she  wrote  about " 

"  You'll   be   drowned,"   said   Mrs.   Mangan,   doomfuUy  ; 
*'  and  sure  if  Larry  comes  over,  what'll  I  say  to  him  ?  " 
T  289 


290  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  He'll  not  come  !  "  said  Tishy,  scornfully.  "  What  a 
fool  he  is,  a  day  like  this  !  " 

"  And  they  say  the  river's  up  in  the  houses  down  at  the 
end  of  the  town,"  went  on  Mrs.  Mangan.  "  In  the  name 
of  pity  why  wouldn't  you  be  satisfied  to  stay  at  home  for  this 
once,  and  you  leaving  me  for  good  to-morrow  !  " 

''  Well,  I'll  die  if  I  stay  in  this  messed-up  hole  any  longer  !  " 
said  Tishy.     "  I  don't  care  how  wet  I  get " 

Presently  the  front  door  slammed  behind  her  ;  her  mother 

said  to  herself  that  of  all  the  headstrong  pieces !     And, 

further,  that  she  trusted  in  God  Larry  Coppinger  would  be 
able  to  make  a  hand  of  her  ;  she  then,  with  the  resignation 
that  experience  teaches  to  defeated  mothers,  went  to  the 
kitchen,  and  prepared  a  tray  with  tea,  and  carried  it  herself 
up  to  the  Doctor's  surgery. 

*'  Francis,  may  I  come  in  ?     I  have  tea  for  you  and  meself." 

**  Come  in  to  be  sure,"  replied  Francis,  hospitably.  "  I'll 
be  glad  of  a  cup.     Wait  and  I'll  Hght  the  gas." 

The  Big  Doctor  was  a  faithful  man,  and  loved  his  wife. 
He  treated  her  as  a  slave,  but  it  was  thus  that  she  not  only 
expected,  but  preferred  to  be  treated,  and  the  position  of  a 
favourite  slave  may  not  be  without  its  compensations.  He 
established  her  in  the  Patients'  chair,  arranging  it  so  that  the 
crude  flare  of  the  incandescent  gas  should  not  be  in  her  eyes, 
and  then  sat  down  in  his  own  huge  chair,  in  comfortable 
proximity  to  her  and  the  tea-tray. 

"  Well,  Annie,  me  girl,"  he  said.  "  You're  looking  tired 
enough,  but  there  isn't  one  will  touch  you  in  looks  to-morrow 
for  all  that  !     Your  own  daughter  included  !  " 

*'  Go  on  out  of  that,  Francis,  with  your  nonsense  !  "  replied 
Mrs.  Mangan,  with  a  coquettish  slap  on  the  Doctor's  great 
round  knee,  **  you  ought  to  be  learning  sense  for  yourself 
by  this  timiC  !  " 

"  Maybe  I'm  not  so  wanting  in  sense  as  you  might  think, 
Annie  !  "  he  answered,  his  watchful,  grey-blue  eyes  under 
the  over-hanging,  musical  brows,  softening  as  he  looked  at 
her.  "  I  think  one  way  and  another,  I  haven't  made 
altogether  such  a  bad  fist  of  things  !  " 

"  Darling  lovey  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Mangan,  adoringly.  *'  How 
could  you  think  I  m^eant  it  !  " 

''  Well,  I  didn't  either  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  with  a  satisfied 


MOUNT   MUSIC  291 

iaugh,  "  but  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  I've  done  better  than 
you're  aware  of,  or  that  you  might  give  me  credit  for  either  !  '* 

*'  All  Fm  aware  of,"  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  sitting  erect, 
with  a  look  of  defiance,  "  is  that  there's  nothing  in  this  world, 
no,  nor  in  Ireland  neither,  that  you  couldn't  do  if  you  chose 
to  put  your  mind  to  it  !  So  now  !  You  needn't  be  talking 
to  me  like  that  !  Pretending  I  don't  know  you  after  all  those 
years  !  " 

"  Well,  listen  to  me  now,"  said  the  Doctor,  well  pleased, 
"  Tell  me  what  d'ye  think  of  this  marriage  of  Tishy's  ?  " 

"  You  know  well  what  I  think  of  it,  Francis,  and  what 
everybody  thinks  of  it,  too  !     The  smartest  and  the  richest — " 

"  Well,  that's  all  right,"  interrupted  the  Doctor,  '*  but  for 
a  woman  like  yourself,  that  sets  out  to  be  fond  of  her  children, 
its  surprising  that  you  didn't  make  a  match  yet  for  your  son  !  '* 
He  looked  at  her  with  indulgent  fondness  laughing  at  her, 
and  she  gazed  back  at  him  with  her  heart  in  her  eyes,  and 
thought  him  the  king  of  men.  "  Well,  what  have  you  got 
to  say  to  that,  Mrs.  Mangan  }  It's  well  for  the  poor  boy 
that  his  father  isn't  so  neglectful  of  him  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Francis  ?  What  are  you  talking 
of?" 

"I'm  talking  of  poor  Barty,  my  dear  !  "  said  the  Doctor, 
enjoying  himself  intensely,  and  watching  his  wife's  handsome 
face  with  eyes  that  lost  no  shade  of  its  quick-changing  expres- 
sion. *'  You've  a  high  opingen  of  him,  I  know  !  Would 
you  think  Miss  Christian  Talbot-Lowry  was  good  enough 
for  him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mangan's  mouth  opened,  in  sheer  stupefaction. 
She  opened  and  shut  it  two  or  three  times  before  speech 
came  to  her. 

"  Barty  !  "  she  panted  ;  "  Miss  Christian  Lowry  !  Sweet 
and  Blessed  Mother  of  God  !  Francis,  you're  raving  !  Is 
it  my  poor  Barty  !     They'd  never  look  at  him  !  " 

The  Doctor  watched  her  with  triumph  in  his  face.  Don't 
be  too  sure  of  that  !     I  might  have  an  argument  up  my 

sleeve "   he   checked   himself  as   a  nervous   knock  was 

heard  at  the  door.  "  Who's  there  ?  Come  in  !  Come  in, 
can't  ye  ?  " 

A  telegram,  the  orange  envelope  dark  with  wet,  was  handed 
to  him.     He  read  it. 


292  MOUNT   MUSIC 

"  No  answer,"  he  said,  getting  up  quickly.  "  Well,  bad 
manners  to  the  woman  !     Such  a  day  to  choose  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  lovey  ?  Don't  tell  me  it's  a  sick  call  !  You 
couldn't  possibly  go  annywheie  this  evening  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Mangan,  italicising,  in  her  indignation,  every  second  word, 
"  and  for  goodness'  sake,  go  on  and  tell  me  what  was  the 
argument  you  said  you  had  ?  " 

**  My  dear,  I  couldn't  go  into  it  properly  now.  I'll  tell 
you  another  time.  I'm  bound  to  go,  and  as  quick  as  I  can, 
too  !  Run  now,  like  a  good  girl,  and  tell  Barty  or  Mike  to 
get  the  car  ready  in  a  hurry.  That  wire  was  from  Hannigan 
that  lives  below  Riverstown.  He  says  his  wife '11  die — she's 
very  bad,  I'm  afraid — I'm  booked  for  the  job  this  long  time — " 

Mrs.  Mangan,  loudly  expostulating,  though  wise  in 
obedience  from  experience,  flew  from  the  room  with  her 
message,  and  speedily  returned  to  find  the  Big  Doctor  still 
hurrying  about  the  surgery,  making  his  preparations,  and 
talking  as  he  went. 

"  I  mightn't  be  back  till  morning,  but  I'll  not  miss  the 
wedding,  don't  be  afraid  !  I'll  come  as  soon  as  I  can,  I 
promise  you  that !  " 

"  Oh,  Francis,  love,  I  hate  to  see  you  go  out  this  awful 
night,"  wailed  Mrs.  Mangan,  following  him  into  the  little 
hall,  and  dragging  his  fur-lined  coat  off  a  peg,  and  holding  it 
for  him  ;  "and  this  scorf,  my  darling,  put  it  on  you  before 
you  ketch  your  death.     Will  you  take  Mike  with  you  ?  " 

'*  I  will  not.  He'll  be  wanting  here.  Don't  delay  me  now 
Good-bye,  girlie  !  "  He  kissed  her.  Then  he  opened  the 
door,  and  with  a  roar,  the  wind  and  the  rain  hurled  in,  with 
a  force  that  staggered  him,  big  as  he  was. 

*'  Well,  such  a  night  !  "  lamented  Mrs.  Mangan,  for  the 
twentieth  time,  clinging  to  the  door  ;  "  I  wish  to  God  the 
telegraph  w^ires  were  down  before  they  could  send  for  you  ! 
Oh,  will  you  take  care  of  yourself  now,  Francis  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  will !     Go  in  out  of  the  wet "  he  pushed 

himself  in  under  the  lov/  hood  of  the  car,  and  glided  into 
the  darkness. 


A  doctor  is  a  dedicated  man.     He  accepts  risks  with  a 
laugh,  and  toil  with,  perhaps,  a  grumble,  but  he  does  not 


MOUNT    MUSIC  293 

flinch.  Obscure  and  inglorious  perils  are  his,  and  hardships 
that  only  himself  can  gauge.  Be  sure  that  they  are  not 
unrecorded.  They  shinC;  and  their  splendour  is  hidden, 
like  those  lanterns  that  were  hidden  under  the  coats  of  the 
lantern-bearers.  But  there  is,  very  surely,  some  screen, 
sensitive  to  its  rays,,  on  which  that  light  is  thrown,  that  will 
some  day  show  us  what  we  have  been  too  self-centred  to 
realise,  and  will  dazzle  us  with  the  devotion  to  which  we  are 
now  too  much  habituated  to  admire. 


CHAPTER   XL 

It  was  Barty  who  had  brought  out  the  car,  and,  on  his  father's 
departure,  he  released  the  grip  of  the  raihngs  that  had  enabled 
him  to  keep  his  footing,  and  was,  literally,  blown  into  the 
house. 

*'  Shut  the  door,  my  Pigeon-pie  !  "  said  his  mother,  "  the 
wind's  too  strong  for  me." 

Barty  was  too  well  accustomed  to  this  expression  of  his 
mother's  affection  to  resent  it,  and  having  done  her  bid- 
ding, he  followed  her  into  the  Doctor's  room,  which  alone 
had  a  fire  in  it. 

*'  Nothing  would  please  Tishy  only  to  go  down  to  the 
Whelplys,"  complained  Mrs.  Mangan,  poking  the  fire,  and 
seating  herself  in  front  of  it  with  a  long,  groaning  sigh  of 
exhaustion  ;  "  some  nonsense  about  a  wreath.  A  wreath 
indeed  !  Any  one'd  be  lucky  that  kept  their  hair  on  their 
heads  in  this  wind,  let  alone  a  wreath  !  You'll  have  to  go 
fetch  her,  my  poor  boy  !  I'll  not  be  easy  till  I  see  her  and 
Pappy  home  again]!  I  thought  maybe  Larry  might  have 
come  over,  but  I  declare  now  I'm  glad  he  did  not." 

"  Larry's  not  like  himself  lately,"  said  Barty,  sitting  down 
in  his  father's  chair,  and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  paper 
packet  and  extracting  a  crushed  cigarette  from  it.  "I  think 
the  loss  of  th'  election  disappointed  him  greatly." 

"  'Twas  well  he  had  Tishy  to  console  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Mangan,  "  it  was  in  the  nick  of  time  she  cot  him  !  " 

**  It  was,"  replied  Barty,  tepidly.  "  I  think  also,"  he  went 
on,  "  he's  put  out  about  his  aunt  not  coming  down  for  the 
wedding,  and  even  young  Mrs.  Kirby  away.  It's  funny  to 
think  Coppinger's  Court  and  Mount  Music  are  empty  now, 
the  two  of  them — or  will  be  after  to-morrow.  Miss 
Christian  went  to-day." 

294 


MOUNT   MUSIC  295 

("  See  now  how  he's  talking  of  her  !  "  thought  his  mother. 
**  I  wonder  did  Francis  say  anything  to  him  ?  ")  Aloud  she 
said  :   "  It's  a  pity  she's  gone,  but  it  mightn't  be  for  long." 

*'  I  saw  her  yesterday.  The  Doctor  sent  me  there  for  a 
map,"  said  Barty,  with  elaborate  unconcern. 

('*  Look  at  that  now  !  "  again  commented  Mrs.  Mangan 
to  herself.  "  How  well  they  never  told  me  he'd  gone  to  see 
her  !     Aren't  men  a  fright  the  way  they'll  hide  things  !  ") 

"  She's  a  sweet  girl,  my  Pidgie,"  she  resumed,  to  her  son, 
"And  Pappy's  always  said  the  same  thing." 

Barty  looked  at  her  like  a  horse  prepared  to  shy.  Had  his 
father  said  anything  to  her  ?  The  longing  to  speak  of 
Christian  had  mastered  him,  but  if  his  mother  knew 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  for  Tishy  now,"  he  said  abruptly, 
"  It  might  be  a  job  to  get  down  the  town  later  on." 

He  left  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Mangan,  in  her  husband's  big 
chair,  by  his  big  fire,  fell  into  tired  yet  peaceful  ease  of  body 
and  mind.  How  wonderful  was  Francis  !  Who  but  he 
would  have  dared  to  aspire  for  his  children  as  he  had  ?  He 
had  secured  for  Tishy  the  ver\'  pick  of  the  country  ;  and  now, 
her  own  darling  Barty  !  Was  it  possible  ?  Yes  !  It  was, 
if  Francis  said  so  !  But  what  was  "  the  argument  he  had  up 
his  sleeve  }  "  Never  mind  !  Francis  would  tell  her  when 
he  came  home.  There  was  no  hurry.  But  again,  how 
wonderful  was  Francis  ! 

She  fell  asleep.  Barty  woke  her,  coming  into  the  room, 
dripping  and  shining  in  oilskins  and  sou'wester,  like  a  life- 
boat man. 

"  I  couldn't  get  further  than  West  Street,  Mammie,"  he 
said,  still  breathless.  "  I  had  on  my  waders,  but  the  water 
was  up  over  them.  They  had  boats  going  about,  I  believe, 
but  I  couldn't  get  hold  of  one.  Tishy'll  have  to  stay  the 
night  at  the  Whelplys'.  I  met  a  man  that  told  me  there  was 
a  big  flood  in  the  river,  and  haystacks,  and  cattle,  and  all 
sorts,  coming  down  in  it.  It  was  up  over  the  line,  and  the  train 
hardlv  got  out.     It  was  near  putting  out  the  engine  fires." 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  "  said  Mrs.  Mangan,  with  her  big  eyes 
that  were  so  like  Barty's    fixed  on  his,  "  the  Riverstown 

road  !     Oh  !     Francis  ! "    she    groped    at   the    front    of 

her  blouse  for  her  Rosary,  her  lips  moving  in  hasty  supplica- 
tion, her  eyes  wild,  roving  from  her  son's  face  to  the  black- 


296  MOUNT,  MUSIC 

ness  of  the  window.     Suddenly  she  thrust  back  the  Rosary. 

*'  Why  do  you  tell  me  these  things  ?  "  she  cried,  furiously, 
**  you  great  omadhaiin  !  Is  it  to  frighten  me  into  my  grave 
you  want  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  you  that  v^our  father's  out  alone  ? 
Oh  God  !  Oh  God  !  Why  couldn't"  he  think  of  me  as  well 
as  of  that  damned  woman  away  at  Riverstown  !  "  She  began 
to  cry,  wildly,  her  forehead  pressed  against  one  of  the  stream- 
ing panes  of  the  window.     "  Oh  Francis,  Francis  ! " 

There  were  many  more  than  Mrs.  Mangan  and  her  son 
that  sat  up  all  through  that  night  in  the  Valley  of  the  Broad- 
water. Trembling  people  in  little  low-lying  cottages,  with 
thatched  roofs  held  in  place  with  ladders,  and  ropes,  and  stones, 
with  doors  and  windows  barricaded  against  the  wind.  But  of 
what  avail  are  barricades  against  the  creeping  white  lip  of 
water,  crawling  in  under  the  doors  over  the  earthen  floors, 
soaking  in  through  mud-built  walls,  coming  against  them  at 
first  as  a  thief  in  the  night,  falling  upon  them  later  as  a  strong 
man  armed  ? 

From  the  lower  side-streets  of  Cluhir  the  people  fled 
before  the  flood  to  any  shelter  that  the  upper  parts  of  the  town 
could  offer  them.  Ghastly  stories  were  told  of  drowned 
cattle  that  were  swept  against  the  closed  doors,  and  came 
pushing  and  banging  at  the  windows,  carried  there  by  their 
conqueror  as  it  were  with  mockery,  to  entreat  for  the  succour 
that  was  too  late. 

When  the  pale  dawn  looked  out  through  wind-torn  clouds, 
it  saw  a  half-mile  breadth  of  racing  water  where  had  been 
pasturef-fields  ;  the  yellow,  foam-laced  river  was  half  way  up 
the  tall,  slender  arches  of  Cluhir  Bridge,  lapping  ever  higher, 
as  if  in  envy,  to  hide  the  sole  beauty  of  the  ignoble  town. 
Trees,  and  hayricks,  broken  boats,  and  humble  pieces  of 
cottage  furniture,  jostled  each  other  between  the  piers, 
tossing  and  dancing  in  grotesque  gaiety,  like  drunken  holiday- 
makers  on  their  way  to  the  sea.  The  great  river  that  is 
credited  with  exacting  six  lives  each  year,  was  claiming  its 
toll.  How  many  it  took  that  December  night  does  not  now 
concern  us,  save,  indeed,  where  one  sad  house  was  in  question, 
where  a  wife  and  a  son  waited  a  long  night  through  for  the 
man  who  would  not  return  to  them. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  297 

Down  below  Cluhir,  at  Mount  Music,  old  Evans  crept  out 
of  the  shuttered  house,  and  fought  his  way  in  the  wind, 
amid  fallen  trees,  down  to  the  big  river,  to  see  what  still  stood 
of  the  boathouse.  The  boathouse  had  weathered  out  the 
night.  Its  roof  had  held,  its  doors  stood  firm.  Old  Evans 
surveyed  it  wuth  pride. 

*'  Aha  !  Protestant  building  !  "  he  said,  old  inveterate 
that  he  was. 

Then  he  saw  on  the  submerged  bank,  amid  a  dehris  of 
broken  rushes,  and  clots  of  foam,  and  branches,  something 
that  he  knew  instantly  for  what  it  was.  The  drowned  body 
of  a  man. 

Cautiously,  and  holding  by  shrubs  and  tree-stems,  he 
reached  the  place,  where,  half  ashore,  half  lying  in  thin  flood 
through  which  tufts  of  grass  were  showing,  with  arms  stretched 
out,  grasping  at  the  shore,  the  intruder  lay.  Old  Evans  knew 
well  that  fur-collared  coat.  Often  enough  he  had  held  it 
for  the  Big  Doctor.  He  had  no  need  to  turn  the  defeated 
face  from  its  pillow  in  the  broken  reeds.  He  stared  down 
at  the  man  whom  he  had  hated,  with  something  of  pity, 
more  of  cynicism. 

"  Well,  ye  wanted  Mount  Music  !  "  he  said,  at  last.  "  How 
d'ye  like  it  now  yeVe  got  it  .^  " 


The  things  that  a  man  has  accomplished  we  sum  him  up 
by,  and  the  things  of  which  he  was  capable,  and  did  not 
accompHsh,  are  of  no  account,  and  the  net  that  held  him 
is  of  a  mesh  beyond  the  vision  of  most. 

Who  shall  pity  the  Big  Doctor,  or  blame  him  over-much  } 
He  died  in  the  fullness  of  his  powers,  with  his  ambitions,  as 
he  believed,  attained.  He  knew  himself  to  be  a  good  son  of 
the  Church,  a  faithful  husband,  a  successfully-scheming 
father.  What  his  priest  thought  of  him  is  known  only  to 
his  priest,  but  we  may  be  sure  he  regretted  him.  A  jury  of 
his  peers  would  have  approved  him  in  his  every  action.  If 
the  paths  that  he  had  followed  were  sometimes  tortuous, 
along  many  of  them  he  had  been  guided  by  the  ankiis  of 
that  mahout  in  whose  directions  his  faith  had  taught  him  to 
confide.     He  had  lived  according  to  the  light  that  he  had 


298  MOUNT   MUSIC 

received,  and  in  his  last  act  he  took  his  Hfe  in  his  hand   and 
gave  it  for  another. 

For  my  part,  I  beHeve  that  the  Big  Doctor  viewed  with  a 
justified  composure 

" .  .  .  that  last 
*'  Wild  pageant  of  the  accumulated  past 
"  That  clangs  and  flashes  for  a  drowning  man." 


CHAPTER   XLI 

In  that  same  wind-wild  dawn,  Larry  awoke,  and  tried  to 
believe  that  he  was  a  bridegroom,  and  was  going  to  espouse 
Tishy  Mangan  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  hours. 

"  C'est  toujour s  Vimprevu  qui  arriz'e  /  "  he  told  himself. 
That  ancient  ditty,  *'  The  Yeoman's  Wedding,"  that  he 
had  often  heard  Dr.  Mangan  sing,  attacked  him  like  an 
illness,  and  enforced  its  galloping  metres  on  all  he  did. 

"  Through  the  valley  we'll  haste; 
For  we've  no  time  to  waste  ! 
For  it  is  my  wedding  morning,  my  wedding  morning  1  " 

The  housemaid  (that  same  Upper  Housemaid  who  had 
spoken  of  the  riff-raff  of  Cluhir)  heard  him,  in  the  bath-room, 
loudly  announcing  his  intentions. 

*'  Ding  dong  !  We'll  gallop  along  !  "  Larry  sang,  and  the 
Upper  Housemaid  said  to  her  subordinate,  *'  What  a  hurry 
he's  in  !     Well  !     Bright's  his  fancy  !  " 

The  Upper  Housemaid  was  rash  in  thus  giving  her  opinion. 
Larry's  fancy  was  far  from  bright,  but  he  was  of  those  unfor- 
tunates who,  when  obsessed  by  a  tune,  must  yield  to  its 
importunity,  even  though  it  followed  him  to  the  steps  of  the 
scaffold. 

It  is  not  insinuated  that  Larry  was  now%  metaphorically, 
or  otherwise,  in  such  a  case.  He  was,  as  he  told  himiielf, 
quite  prepared  to  go  through  with  the  job,  but,  he  likewise 
told  himself,  it  was  a  rotten  sort  of  business  dressing  for  your 
wedding  with  not  a  soul,  bar  the  servants,  to  say  good  morning 
to,  and  even  they  looked  as  sour  as  lemons  and  hadn't  a 
smile  among  the  lot  of  them.     Larry  drank  some  coffee, 

299 


300  MOUNT   MUSIC 

and  crumbled  some  toast,  and  brutally  and  wastefully  broke 
into  a  poached  egg,  turning  what  had  been  a  triumph 
of  snow,  into  a  yellow  peril,  and  gave  its  attendant  bacon  to 
Aunt  Freddy's  old  Pomeranian,  and  found  that  he  had 
finished  his  breakfast,  and  that  it  was  no  m.ore  than  ten  o'clock. 
The  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents  ;  he  could  not  go  out, 
not  even  to  the  stables.  What  on  earth  was  he  to  do  from  now 
till  one  o'clock  ?     The  blooming  wedding  was  at  two. 

He  thought  of  it  as  some  one  else's,  and  realised  that  he  so 
thought  of  it,  and  then  just  tripped  himself  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  further  reflection  that  he  wished  it  were. 

'  Probably  getting  married  is  always  a  bore,'*  he  said  to 
himself,  consoHngly.  "  'E's  all  right  when  you  know  'im, 
but  you've  got  to  know  'im  fust  '  !  Why  do  these  rotten 
old  songs  stick  in  my  head  like  this  ?  Because  I'm  a  fool, 
no  doubt,  and  always  was  !  " 

He  walked  into  the  hall,  and  there  surveyed  his  luggage, 
packed  and  ready,  and  appallingly  new. 

"  It'll  give  the  show  away,  even  if  they  let  us  off  confetti," 
he  thought. 

He  wished  he  hadn't  given  in  to  this  High  Nuptial  Mass 
business,  and  a  big  wedding,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  but  the 
Doctor  and  Tishy  were  dead  keen  on  it,  and  he  had  been  sat 
on. 

He  and  Tishy  were  going  to  London,  and  if  this  gale 
lasted,  they  would  have  a  devil  of  a  crossing.  He  wondered 
if  Tishy  were  a  good  sailor.  He  wasn't,  anyhow.  He  would 
warn  her  that  he  would  be  no  more  use  to  her  than  a  sick 
headache,  which  she  would  probably  have,  to  start  with, 
and  she  wouldn't  want  another.  The  Mount  Music  people 
were  across  the  Channel  by  this  time,  ahead  of  the  gale  too. 
Luck  for  them  !  Old  Mrs.  Twomey  had  told  him  they  were 
gone,  and  she  said  they  would  never  come  back  again.  Silly 
old  ass,  what  did  she  know  about  it  ? 

He  had  wandered  into  his  studio  ;  now,  without  his  own 
volition,  almost  as  if  he  were  hypnotised,  he  took  the  canvas 
on  which  he  had  painted  Christian,  from  where  it  was  leaning, 
face  inwards,  against  the  wall,  and  put  it  on  an  easel.  He 
had  not  looked  at  it  since  the  day  of  conflict,  and  he  told 
himself  that  he  was  now  regarding  it  with  the  frigid  eye  of 
the  art  critic. 


MOUNT   MUSIC  301 

Yes,  it  was  good.  Better  than  he  thought.  The  technique 
was  jolly  good,  slick,  and  unworried,  and  the  likeness  was  all 
right  too.  He  had  somehow  just  got  hold  of  that  ethereal 
look  she  ahvays  had  had.  She  was  hearing  those  voices 
they  used  to  chaff  her  about.  How  she  had  gone  for  John 
one  day,  when  he  began  ragging  her  about  that  old  hymn  ! 
She  always  had  the  pluck  of  the  devil  !  He  frowned.  She 
hadn't  had  pluck  enough  to  stand  up  to  her  father  !  He 
would  look  at  her  picture  no  longer  He  wouldn't  think 
of  her.  She  had  chucked  him.  But  his  eyes  were  held  by 
the  eyes  that  he  had  painted  ;  with  a  rush,  the  thought  of 
her  possessed  him.  She  was  everywhere,  penetrating  his 
very  being,  "  his  heart  in  her  hands  "  ;  he  shook  in  the  grip 
of  remembrance,  almost  of  realisation  of  her  presence. 
For  a  moment.  Time  stood  still  for  him  ;  he  hung,  like  a 
ship  that  has  been  flung  up  into  the  wind,  trembling.  Then 
the  sails  filled,  the  present  re-asserted  itself.  He  was  going 
to  marry  Tishy  Mangan,  and  Christian  had  chucked  him. 
He  turned  the  canvas  again. 

Why  had  he  thought  of  that  beastly  hymn  ?  It  had  got 
hold  of  him  now  !  The  measured  tramp  of  the  tune  fitted 
itself  to  the  tick  of  the  clattering  little  tin  clock  on  the  studio 
chimney-piece. 

"  How  the  troops  of  Mid-ian, 
Prowl,  and  prowl  around  ! 
Christian  !     Up  and  at  them ' 


No,  that  was  what  the  Duke  of  Wellington  said  to  the 

Guards   at Oh,   damn  the   clock,   anyhow  !     He   caught 

it  up,  and  pitched  it  across  the  room  on  to  a  sofa,  and  hurled 
a  bundle  of  draperies  after  it  and  on  top  of  it.  But  the  tune 
would  not  stop,  and  the  muffled,  unbaffled  tick  of  the  clock 
went  on.  He  swung  out  of  the  studio,  and  wtnt  back  to  the 
hall. 

The  house  had  its  back  to  the  storm,  and  it  was  only  when 
he  looked  down  the  Cluhir  avenue,  that  he  realised  with  what 
fury  the  rain  was  falling.  The  wind  had  moderated  a  little, 
but  the  barograph-needle  was  still  almost  off  the  paper  it 
had  gone  so  low.  It  was  only  eleven  o'clock.  Two  hours 
before  the  motor  was  to  come  for  him.     He  felt,  as  he  told 


302  MOUNT    MUSIC 

himself,  using  the  adjective  that  has  had  to  undertake  the 
duties  of  so  many  others,  rotten.  Empty,  and  rather 
^ick,  and,  well,  generally  beastly — a  sort  of  vague  funk. 
Yes,  by  Jove  !  He  was  in  a  regular  blue  funk  !  That  was 
what  was  wrong  with  him.     (But  he  certainly  felt  sick  too). 

What  on  earth  was  he  afraid  of }  The  service  couldn't 
last  for  ever,  and  he  had  barred  speeches  at  the  Collation 
(as  Mrs.  Mangan  insisted  on  calling  it).  His  thoughts 
took  a  twist.  Surely  he  wasn't  afraid  of  the  Mangans  ?  He 
liked  Mrs.  Mangan  :  he  was  quite  fond  of  her,  quite  a  good 
-sort  of  mother-in-law  she'd  make.     And  Barty,  his  best  man, 

good  old  Barty  !     And  the  Doctor Of  course  he  wasn't 

afraid  of  the  Doctor  either.  He  had  alw^ays  liked  him. 
There  only  remained  Tishy.  Hang  it  all  !  He  wasn't 
afraid  of  the  girl  he  was  going  to  marry  !  She  might  have  a 
bit  of  a  temper — she  certainly  had  been  rather  rattled  these 
last  few  days,  but  you  couldn't  blame  her  for  that.  The 
very  last  time  he  had  seen  her — the  evening  before  the  big 
storm  began,  wasn't  it  ? — he  had  overtaken  her  in  the 
dark  in  the  Mall,  going  home  after. shopping,  and  that  long- 
iegged  cad  of  a  fellow,  Cloherty,  carrying  her  parcels  for  her. 
By  Jove  !  She  had  let  drive  at  him  after  Cloherty  had  gone 
and  they  were  in  the  house  1  By  Jove,  yes  !  He  laughed  a 
little  at  the  remembrance.  She  had  said  it  was  a  nice  time 
of  day  for  him  to  be  coming  over.  She  had  jolly  nearly  cried, 
she  was  so  mad  with  him.  For  the  life  of  him  he  didn't 
know  why.  But,  after  all,  that  wasn't  exactly  temper. — 
Biowed  if  he  knew  what  it  was.  He  supposed  it  was  tempera- 
ment— quite  a  different  thing  !  He  laughed  and  had  a  look 
<at  a  large  and  splendid  photograph  of  Miss  Mangan.  that  had 
been  a  sort  of  corollary  of  the  DubUn  trousseau.  Tishy  was 
all  right.  Tishy  was  a  topper  !  He  said  it  aloud,  and.  with 
that,  another  tune,  the  old  nigger-tune,  "  Nelly  was  a  Lady," 
fitted  ^tself  absurdly  to  the  words. 

"  Tishy  was  a  topper  \"  he  sang.  "  Last  night  she — 
No,  she  didn't  !  By  Jove,  there's  the  motor  !  What's  it 
■coming  at  this  hour  for  ?  " 

He  watched  the  car  turn  into  the  wide  sweep  in  front  of 
the  house,  and  wheel  round  it,  and  draw  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
hall-door  steps.  It  looked  like  the  car  he  had  hired,  he  knew 
--the  shover's  face  but  there  was  someone  in  it.    He  saw,  with 


MOUNT    MUSIC  303 

pleasure,  that  it  was  Barty  who  was  in  the  car.  Good  old 
Barty,  come  over  early  to  buck  him  up  a  bit.  Larry  sprang 
to  the  door,  and  as  he  opened  it,  Barty  was  coming  up  the 
steps.  He  stood  still  on  the  top  step.  He  was  very  pale, 
Barty  always  had  a  pasty  face,  Larry  thought,  but  this  white- 
ness was  different,  and  there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  that  made 
Larry,  over-strung,  tuned  to  vibrate  to  ill  tidings,  catch  his 
arm,  and  say  : 

**  What  is  it  ?     Tell  me  quick  !  '' 

Barty  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  seemed  as  if  he  could 
not  speak.  He  came  into  the  hall  and  shut  the  door  behind 
him  and  leaned  against  it,  one  hand  still  on  the  handle,  his 
breath  coming  short  and  fast. 

**  My  father  was  drowned  last  night  !  "  he  said  at  last,  in 
a  low,  hurried  voice.  "  He  drove  into  the  river.  The 
flood  was  up  on  the  road.  Wait,  Larry  !  That  isn't  all — '* 
he  went  on  quickly,  holding  up  his  other  hand  to  keep  Larry 
from  speaking.  **  That's  bad  enough,  God  knows  !  But 
this  other  thing  is  Disgrace  !  '' 

Larrv  waited. 

*'  It  isn't  easy  to  tell  you,"  said  Barty,  moistening  his  dry 
lips.  "  There's  just  one  good  thing  about  it,  my  father 
didn't  know " 

"  What  is  it  ?     Look  sharp  I  " 

Larry  was  shaking  with  the  strain  of  waiting  for  this  with- 
held horror. 

"  Tishy  was  caught  out  by  the  flood  last  night  :  she  didn't 
come  home " 

"  What  !     She  also ?  "  stammered  Larry. 

"  I  wish  to  God  she  were  !  "  said  Barty,  fiercely.  *'  No  ! 
But  while  my  father  was  going  to  his  death,  maybe  when  he 
was  drowning  itself,  she  bolted  with  Ned  Cloherty  !  They 
went  to  Dublin  on  the  mail — a  porter  at  the  station  that  saw 
them— there's  no  doubt  about  it  !  " 

Larry  sat  down  by  a  table,  and  put  bis  head  on  his  arms 
and  trisd  to  think.  His  brain  was  whirling.  He  had  covered 
his  eyes,  because  he  knew  if  he  saw  Barty's  tragic  face  again 
he  would  laugh,  and  if  he  began  to  laugh,  he  said  to  himself; 
God  only  knew  when  he  would  stop.  It  was  a  fatal  trick 
of  his  nerves,  he  could  never  make  Barty  understand.  He 
would  be  shocked  and  scandalised  for  ever. 


304  MOUNT   MUSIC 

The  Doctor  drowned !  He  must  fix  his  mind  on  that.  He 
mustn't  think  of  Tishy ;  if  he  did,  he  knew  that  this  horrible, 
inhuman  surge  of  joy  that  was  pulsing  in  him  would  betray 
itself  in  his  face,  would  overwhelm  him,  like  the  flood  in  the 
river,  would  sweep  away  all  decency,  sympathy,  would  leave 
him  bare  of  all  that  he  ought  to  feel  and  express.  (But  to 
think  that  he  hadn't  to  get  married  to-day  !  Oh,  blessed, 
beautiful  Cloherty  !)  He  was  going  to  be  very  angry  with 
Cloherty,  as  soon  as  he  had  pulled  himself  together.  Cloherty 
had  behaved  like  a  blackguard  ;    he  had  blackened  Larry's 

face  ;   he  had  shamed  him  ;   had  stolen  his  girl (but,  for 

all  that,  oh,  Blessed  and  Beautiful !) 

Larry  and  Barty  sat  for  awhile  and  talked,  saying,  as  people 
will,  at  such  moments,  dull  things  over  and  over  again, 
uninspired,  conventional,  stupid  things.  Both  were  equally 
afraid  to  say  the  things  that  were  in  their  minds  about  Tishy 
and  Cloherty  ;  Barty,  because  he  was  so  angry  with  her 
that  he  feared  he  might  hurt  Larry  ;  Larry,  because  he  told 
himself  he  would  have  to  sit  down  to  the  thing  squarely, 
and  think  it  out,  before  he  knew  what  to  say  about  it.  He 
tried  to  concentrate  on  the  death  of  Barty's  father,  but  here, 
strangely  enough,  Barty  seemed  equally  unable  to  respond 
without  restraint. 

"  I've  got  to  go  on  to  Mount  Music.  They  say  the  flood's 
down,  and  you  can  get  there  now,"  he  said,  presently,  in  the 
voice  from  which  all  the  colour  and  life  had  died,  "  I've 
arranged  for  a  hearse.  I  had  a  wire,  early,  telling  me  what — 
what  had  happened.     I  was  wondering,  Larry,  would  you 

come  with  me  .''     I've  no  right,  now,  to  ask  3^ou,  but '* 

His  tired  voice  died  on  the  sentence,  his  mournful  eyes  sought 
Larry's  and  said  what  his  lips  failed  to  say. 

"  My  dear  old  chap,"  said  Larry,  ardently,  grateful  for  the 
chance  of  showing  Barty  that  he  bore  no  ill  will  to  him, 
"  Of  course  I  will !  Anything  I  could  do  to  help  you,  I'd 
be  only  too  glad — you  mustn't  think  anything  will  make  a 
difference " 

They  said  little  to  each  other  as  the  motor  splashed  along 
the  flooded  road.  Each  was  absorbed  in  the  effort  to  envisage 
the  profound  changes  that  had  befallen  himself  in  a  single 
night.  More  than  once  Barty  turned  to  Larry  as  if  he  were 
about  to  speak,  and  then  turned  away  ;    they  came  to  the 


IVIOUNT    lAIUSIC  305 

Mount  Music  entrance,  and  as  the  car  turned  in  through  the 
gateway,  Barty  suddenly  put  his  bony  and  palHd  hand  on 
Larry's  knee. 

**  There's  a  thing  no  one  here  knows  but  myself,  and  I  didn't 
hear  it  till  two  days  ago,  but  I  can't  bear  the  weight  of  it  any 
longer.  I  can't  give  you  all  the  details,  but  you  may  rely  on 
what  I  say  being  correct."  Ke  looked  away  from  Larry 
out  of  the  window.  The  car  was  running  swiftly  up  the 
smooth  levels  of  the  long  avenue  ;  he  knew  he  had  no  time 
for  circumlocution.  "  My  father  told  me,"  he  began.  "  that 
in  som.e  way,  between  himself  and  the  Major  a  lot  of  money 
had  passed.  The  Major  was  greatly  pressed  for  money — 
he  wasn't  getting  his  rents,  and  there  were  many  liabilities — 
mv  father  got  hold  of  them  all.     I  think  he  lent  him  a  lot  of 

money  too "     He  paused  an  instant,  then  he  rushed  on 

with  his  stor}\  "  Anyway,  whatever  was  between  them, 
the  Major  gave  my  father  the  title-deeds  of  this  house  and  the 
demesne  in  security  for  what  he  had  borrowed.  My  father 
has  them  now.  I  mean,"  he  corrected  himself,  *'  they're 
in  my  office.  He  said  they  were  for  me — he  as  good  as  gave 
them  to  me."  Barty  slowly  turned  a  dusky  red.  He  thought 
of  what  his  father  had  said  of  Mount  Music,  of  Christian  ; 
the  arrogance,  the  hateful  facetiousness  :  he  had  felt  as  if 
brutal  hands  had  been  laid  on  a  saint  ;  even  now,  he  shuddered 
in  spirit  as  remembrance  came  to  him. 

**  Good  God  1  Was  that  why  they  went  away  ?  "  Larry 
said,  with  a  horror  that  scarcely  permitted  of  speech.  '*  Do 
you  mican  the  place  isn't  theirs  any  more  ?  "  He  thought  : 
**  I  wish  he'd  take  his  hand  off  my  knee  i  Thank  God, 
I'm  out  of  it !  " 

"  It  "  meant  marriage  wuth  the  daughter  and  the  sister  of 
men  who  could  do  such  things. 

Perhaps  some  telepathic  vibration  from  that  wave  of 
repulsion  reached  Barty. 

"  You  needn't  think  I  had  anything  to  do  with  it,"  he 
m.uttered,  withdrawing  his  hand,  "  or  ever  will  !  "  he  added, 
as  if  to  himself. 

Larry  remained  silent  ;  the  car  ground  into  the  heavy  river- 
gravel  on  the  sweep  in  front  of  the  house,  and  ceased  at  the 
door  that  he  had  not  seen  since  that  day  of  wrath  when  he 
had  cast  his  cousins  behind  him  for  ever. 


CHAPTER   XLII 

Dr.  Mangan's  body  was  still  lying  on  the  door  on  which  it 
had  been  carried  up  from  the  river-bank.  Kitchen  chairs 
now  supported  it  where  it  lay,  with  its  burden,  between  the 
high  windows,  in  the  desolate,  sheeted  dining  room,  sur- 
rounded by  portraits  of  Talbots,  and  Lowrys,  and  their 
collaterals,  who  would  surely  have  considered  the  presence 
of  Francis  Aloysius  Mangan,  dead  or  alive,  as  something 
of  an  intrusion,  not  to  say  a  liberty. 

Old  Evans  opened  the  hall  door,  and  silently  led  the  two 
3^oung  men  through  the  hall,  and  opening  the  dining-room 
door,  left  them  there.  They  stood  looking  down  on  the  Big 
Doctor  in  silence.  The  strong,  coarse  face  had  taken  on  that 
aloof  dignity,  even  splendour  of  expression,  that  death  can 
confer.  The  servants  had  covered  all  else  with  a  sheet  ; 
the  soaked  fur  collar  of  the  coat  was  turned  up,  and  made  a 
pillow  for  the  big,  iron-grey  head. 

With  a  shaking  hand  Barty  turned  back  the  sheet.  His 
father's  thick,  powerful  hands  were  crossed  on  his  broad 
breast.  The  son  stooped  and  kissed  them,  humbly  ;  then 
he  replaced  the  sheet,  and  kissed  the  heavy  brow,  from  which 
all  the  marks  of  the  turmoil  of  Hfe  had  been  smoothed. 

*'  I  believe  he  is  near  us,"  he  whispered  ;  he  took  a  prayer- 
book  from  his  pocket  and  knelt,  his  head  resting  on  the 
covered  form. 

Larry  knelt  also.  If  only  Barty  had  not  told  him  that 
abhorrent  thing.  He  tried  to  forget  it,  to  pray  for  the  soul  of 
the  man  who  had,  as  he  believed,  always  been  kind  to  him, 
and  a  good  friend.     Larry  was  undevout,  careless,  thinking 

306 


\ 


MOUNT   MUSIC  307 

little  of  spiritual  things,  so  little,  that  he  had  scarcely  troubled 
himself  either  to  question  or  to  accept  what  he  had  been 
taught,  but  he  was  quick  to  respond  to  emotion  of  any  kind  ; 
now  he  listened,  with  an  unaccustomed  reverence,  to  Barty's 
voice,  brokenly  whispering  the  prayers  of  his  Church.  Their 
unfamiliar  beauty  stirred  his  imagination,  their  appeal  for 
mercy  wakened  his  heart,  and  made  him  ask  himself  what  was 
he  that  he  should  refuse  mercy  !  He  felt  the  anger,  that  had 
only  been  roused  in  him  within  the  last  few  minutes,  dying, 
merged  in  pity  and  in  awe. 

*'  By  the  multitude  of  Thy  mercies,  ever  compassionate 
to  human  frailty,  deliver  him,  O  Lord  !  "  Barty's  husky, 
shaking  voice  murmured.  "  Give  him,  O  Lord,  eternal 
rest,  and  let  perpetual  light  shine  upon  him " 

The  door  was  opened  and  Evans  said  : 

**  The  poHce  are  here,  and  are  asking  for  Mr.  Mangan." 

Barty  rose  from  his  knees  ;  without  a  word,  he  placed  the 
prayer  book  in  Larry's  hands,  and  left  the  room. 

Larry  had  risen  also,  but  instead  of  following  Barty  he 
knelt  again  by  the  Big  Doctor's  still  figure,  and  began  to  speak 
to  him  in  the  low  voice  that  is  the  mark  of  recognition  of  the 
great  mystery  of  death,  and  tells  of  that  singular,  sudden 
reverence  that  is  bestowed  on  the  body  when  the  spirit  has 
left  it  ;  a  reverence  that  seems  to  imply  a  belief  in  the  nearness 
of  the  freed  spirit,  which  is  unsupported  by  the  immeasurable 
remoteness  of  the  expression  of  the  mask  that  it  once  wore. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Larry,  "  I  don't  know  if  you  can  hear  me, 
but  I'll  chance  it.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  it's  not  my  fault 
about  Tishy,  and  the  wedding  not  coming  off.     She  bolted 

with  Ned  Cloherty  last  night "  he  checked  himself,  and 

felt  he  ought  to  apologise  for  talking  slang,  and  then  thought 
that  if  it  were  the  Doctor,  himself,  he  wouldn't  mind.  "  Tishy 
liked  Cloherty  best,"  he  hurried  on,  "  and  she  was  probably 
quite  right,  but  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  would  have  played 
up  all  right."  Then  he  said,  hesitating,  that  Barty  had  told 
him  a  thing  that  he  didn't  quite  understand  the  rights  of. 
'*  You  must  forgive  me  if  I  felt  angry.  I  daresay  there's 
a  lot  to  be  said  on  your  side  if  I  only  knew  it.     But  I  don't, 

and  you  can't  tell  me  now "     He  stood  up,  and  touching 

the  cold  brow,  smoothed  back  the  damp  hair.  "  You  were 
always  awfully  good  to  me,"  he  said    and    stooping,  kissed 


3o8  MOUNT   MUSIC 

the  forehead,  as  Barty  had  done,  and  found  that  his  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

As  he  stood  erect  again,  he  saw  he  was  not  alone  in  the  room, 
A  girl  was  standing  just  behind  him  with  a  basket  of  Christ- 
mas roses  m  her  hand,  a  girl  who  had  come  quietly  in  while 
he  was  speaking,  and  had  waited,  watching,  with  e5'es  that 
saw  more  than  Larry's  kneeling  figure  beside  the  de:^d  man, 
listening,  with  senses  that  were  perceptive  of  a  fellow-listener, 
in  whom  were  newly-learnt  impulses  of  self-reproach  and 
penitence. 

*'  Christian  !  "  said  Larry,  trembling,  as  he  had  trembled 
when  he  spoke  to  her  by  the  Druid  Stone  on  Cnocan  an 
Ceoil  Sidhe. 


309 


This  story,  which  has  not  aspired  to  being  a  story,  and  is 
no  more  than  an  effort  to  hft,  for  a  moment,  the  inevitable 
curvain  that  hangs  between  Irish  and  English  every-day  life, 
shall  not  be  tidied-up,  and  rounded  off,  even  though  as  much, 
nearly,  remains  unsaid,  as  v.'ould  equal  what  has  gone  before. 

Summaries  are  tedious,  and  demand  a  skill,  in  making  them 
endurable,  that  is  bestowed  on  few.  Its  possession  might, 
perhaps,  be  conceded  to  Mrs.  Twomey  (who  knows  more 
about  many  things  than  most  people.)  Unfortunately, 
however,  it  happens  that  but  one  observation  of  hers,  bearing 
on  the  situation,  has  been  preserved  : 

"  Why  then,  I  knew  well  she'd  have  him  !  "  she  declared. 
"  She  was  fond  of  him  always  !  "  She  warmed  to  her  theme. 
"  And  why  wouldn't  she  be  fond  of  him  .?  Sure  the  dog'd 
be  fond  of  him  !  " 

From  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  Mrs.  Twomey,  who, 
like  King  David,  thought  badly  of  dogs,  holding  that  they 
were  as  unimpressionable  as  they  were  savage,  had  a  high 
opinion  of  young  Mr.  Coppinger's  powers  of  attraction. 

Possibly,  also,  the  statement  may  be  taken  as  an  indication 
that  she  had  no  sympathy  with  the  views  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
Nation  in  the  matter  of  what  are  called  "  Mixed  Marriages.'' 


FINIS 


Cahill  (S-  Co.,  Ltd.,  Printers,  London,  Dublin  and  Drogheda. 


I 


